


True Destiny

by totheendoftheworldortime79



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Victoria (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Magic, Crossover, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Light Bondage, Magic, Older Man/Younger Woman, Spanking, Time Travel, True Love, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-18 04:28:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 109,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13674276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totheendoftheworldortime79/pseuds/totheendoftheworldortime79
Summary: Emma Swan stumbles upon one of her son's Author experiments; she and Killian suddenly find themselves in Victorian London. How do they get home? And what does a young Queen and her Prime Minister have to do with it? Rating subject to change.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a crossover fic between Captain Swan of Once Upon a Time and Vicbourne from Victoria. If you're not a fan of those pairs, best to skip this. I doubt anyone's even going to read this, but the muse would not let me rest until I wrote it. There's some magic (from OUAT) and a healthy dose of Vicbourne angst. But since it's me, I'm a sucker for happy endings! I just really wanted two of my favorite couples to meet. This should be about 4-5 chapters in total. Enjoy! (or not!)

Her son was a slob.

Well, perhaps slob was too strong a word. _Disorganized_ might be better. Henry had been a teenager for some time and Emma was still not used to it. There were times she missed the innocent ten year old who showed up at her door all those years ago. Far too soon he would be leaving home to find his own adventure.

But not yet.

Right now, his bedroom was a mess and she was his mother. Killian would tell her to leave it (in fact, she expected him to call her out any moment), he would tell her that Henry needed to learn to clean up after himself, but Emma wanted to do it. It reminded her that her son was still at home, that she had a little more time before he was a grown up.

She’d missed out on so much time.

So Emma Swan smiled to herself as she gathered laundry, placed books back on the shelf and organized her son’s video game collection. She was a mother and a wife, and she planned on enjoying that for as long as she could.

“Swan? Oi, Swan, where are you?”

“Up here!”

Killian’s boots pounded on the stairs, his smile melting into a frown as he stopped in the doorway. “Swan…”

“I’ll just be a few more minutes.”

He shook his head, lovingly exasperated. “He’ll be back tomorrow, you know.”

“I know. But I’m his mom.”

Killian stepped in the mostly clean room, his blue eyes surveying her work. “I was hoping we’d get to spend some time together today, love.”

“We see each other every day, Killian. We work together!”

He grinned, unable to resist the urge to wrap his arm around her. “Indeed, but I’d like to see my wife _relax_. Preferably in the comfort of our bed.”

She rolled her eyes, even as a pleasant shiver rolled down her spine. “Just a few more minutes. _Then_ we’ll spend the rest of the weekend Netflix and chilling, okay?”

“As you wish.” He touched his hook to her jaw and angled her head so he could kiss her. As always, his lips were softer than they had any right to be, soft and sweet. She didn’t even try to resist, pressing her hand against his hard chest, moaning softly as he pulled her closer. Years they’d been together now, and Emma never got over how amazing it felt to simply kiss Killian Jones.

And he was all hers.

When they finally broke for air, Emma kept their foreheads pressed together. “Henry would kill us if he knew we were kissing in here.”

Killian chuckled. “It would be a good way to go.”

Emma’s fingers tightened instinctively. Even now, jokes about death scared her. Killian sensed her feelings, not hesitating to kiss her again, love and desire present in every stroke of his tongue. “Apologies, my love.”

She shook her head. “Don’t worry about it.” She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. It never failed to make her feel safe.

But Killian did worry. Emma had been through so much, _they’d_ been through so much; his joke had been in poor taste. He never wanted to take a moment of their life together for granted. They’d fought too hard to get a happy beginning. “I’ll make us some hot chocolate,” he murmured, rubbing her back.

“Hmm, I’d like that.” But her smile was impish, her hands sliding down the curve of her husband’s back. His eyes darkened just a fraction as he caught her meaning. He loved her so much, his Swan.

“Coming right up.”

Emma bit her lip as she watched him leave. “I certainly hope so.” They could use some couple time. She didn’t have much more to do; she could join him in the kitchen in a minute. And she always did enjoy watching him leave the room.

Emma picked up another book, large and heavy. Was it a school book? No, it appeared to be from the Sorcerer’s house. Another storybook? Was Henry messing around with his Author powers again? Emma still wasn’t sure how she felt about her son having such a power. Curious, she opened the book. The pages were mostly blank, but there in the middle there was some text. She scanned it, flipping pages. She found an illustration; was that another of the Author’s powers? The illustration was beautiful; a short brunette in Victorian dress was walking away from someone, her pretty face crumpled in pain. Emma didn’t know why, but her heart broke for the woman in the picture. In the background a man stood, watching, his face in equal anguish.

_Did you know rooks mate for life?_

No sooner did she read those words than the book began to glow. Emma dropped it like a hot potato, but the glowing didn’t stop. Wind swirled around the room, whipping her hair around her. Magic made the hairs on her arm stand up; she backed away from the book, tripping over the chest at the end of her son’s bed. “Killian!”

Killian heard her shout, instantly dropping the saucepan. He dashed up the stairs, fear curling in his belly. He saw the glowing pulse coming from their son’s room, heard Emma’s cries. “Swan! Swan!”

Emma clutched at the leg of Henry’s bed, wondering how things had gone so wrong, so fast. One moment she was dropping the book on the floor, the next a swirling vortex opened under it. The book tumbled into the abyss, which caused it to grow in size. The floor disappeared under her body, making it more and more difficult to hold on. “Get back!” she screamed at her husband.

“Not bloody likely,” he snarled, charging forward. He dropped to the floor, reaching out. “Give me your hand!”

Emma shot him a scowl. “Can you listen for once?” she yelled, exasperated.

“Not until you’re safe!” The vortex was growing; she was barely hanging on. Killian tried to anchor himself with his hook, all while he reached out with his hand. “Now give me your hand!”

Emma grunted, biting hard on her lip. She uncurled her right hand from the bed and reached out. They fumbled—her hand was sweaty from fear—but she finally grasped Killian’s larger one. He pulled with all his might, struggling to pull her free of the magical vortex. But it was getting larger by the second; it would surely swallow them both. “Come on, come on,” Killian chanted, giving one final heave. Emma shot forward, landing squarely on his chest, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was that she was in his arms. They clutched at each other, ignoring the growing danger. Killian realized far too late, the floor dropping out from under his legs. He held her tight to his chest, trying to roll them out of harm’s way, but he was too late. The ground swallowed them whole, husband and wife clinging to each other as they fell.

And fell.

And fell.

Neither had any idea what happened, how or why they were falling into yet another magical portal, but as long as they were together, they could face anything.

The ground came up faster than either expected, the air pushed out of their lungs violently as they struck. Killian screamed in pain, his leg crumpling under him. Emma took no notice of their surroundings as she crawled to him, silently praying they’d landed in a place where she could use her magic. The familiar hum and spark shot across her fingertips; she quickly pressed her hands to his leg. Killian groaned as she healed him, the pain leeching away.

Killian coughed, still breathless. “Bloody hell.”

Emma laid her hand on his arm, finally taking in their surroundings. The air was thicker than she was used to, the clouds very low in the sky. They were in some kind of park; the grass was just starting to turn brown and the tree leaves were changing colors. It was fall, wherever they were. She thought she heard a carriage somewhere to her right, the distinct sound of a horse.

“Where the hell are we?”

Killian sat up, feeling better. Physically, at least. “How did we even get _here?”_

Emma shrugged. “I found one of the storybooks, you know, the ones from the Sorcerer’s house? I think Henry might have been writing in it. With his Author powers.”

Killian closed his eyes, breathing deeply. “What was he writing about?”

“I’m not sure. But judging from the clothes in the picture, it might have been something Victorian?”

“What makes you say that?”

“You know, the clothes. It’s definitely not modern.”

“I hate the feeling of déjà vu, love, but any idea how to get home?”

“Not a one.”

“Great.” He hoisted himself up, then helped Emma. “If you’re right, then it might be a good idea to blend in. We might be here a while.”

“I really hope you’re wrong.” Even as she said that, she was mentally preparing herself.

“Come on, Swan, where’s your sense of adventure?” He smiled, placing a gentle kiss to her cheek. “We’ll figure this out. We always do.”

She knew he was right, but that didn’t make her feel any better. Part of her hoped their days of adventure were behind them. The other part of her _missed_ it. Which was crazy, but so was her life. She was married to Captain Freaking Hook for crying out loud! “Let’s go blend in, Captain.”

The park they found themselves in was surprisingly close to the road. Unless she was very much mistaken, they were in a city. Smokestacks climbed into the sky, black smoke pouring out of them. The buildings were built close together, almost on top of each other in some places. There was a lot of construction, people everywhere. Many scandalized looks came her way, her pants and turtleneck very conspicuous.

“Good grief, I’m gonna have to wear a corset again, aren’t I?” she groaned under her breath.

Killian grinned, not at all put off by that prospect. “Don’t sound so enthusiastic, love.”

“They hurt!”

“I’ll make it up to you, darling. I promise.” Selfishly, he knew she would look smashing; she always did.

It was more difficult than either of them expected, finding some suitable clothing. They had to duck into the back of a dress shop and abscond with a dark blue gown, corset and petticoats. They found a quiet shed for Emma to change, Killian helping her. Unlike the last time they found themselves stuck in a foreign land, Emma wasn’t shy or modest. She stripped quickly, leaving her old clothes in a pile. She was right, the petticoats and corset were uncomfortable. Killian helped with the laces, cinching them at tight as he dared.

“Alright, love?”

“As okay as I can be with whalebone digging into my spleen.”

He kissed her bare shoulder. “You’ll look lovely.”

She rolled her eyes as she stepped into the gown, tugging it up. Once again, Killian laced her into it and placed the shawl they’d found around her shoulders. “Perfect.”

Emma looked down at herself in wonder. The gown and corset forced her to stand up straight and enhanced her chest. Killian would like that. She could almost feel like a princess, which would be fun if she wasn’t so worried about how they would get back home. “Your turn, sailor.”

Naturally, it was _much_ easier to find suitable clothing for Killian. All Emma had to do to complete his transformation was change his hook into a false hand. “Very dashing.”

He shot her a winsome smile. “Yeah?”

She tied his cravat, then smoothed her hands over the lapels of his coat. “Almost like a proper gentleman.”

“Oi! I _am_ a gentleman, Swan!”

She giggled. “And here I thought I married a scoundrel?”

He grabbed her by the waist, dragging her flush against him. “You, my darling, are a tease.”

Emma wrapped her arms around his neck, able to forget for just a moment that they were far from home. “Only for you, Captain.”

“Damn right.” He kissed her deeply, smoothing his hand over the material of her dress. Depending on how long they were there, perhaps he might enjoy peeling her _out_ of it as much as he enjoyed helping her into it.

The moment passed; they really did need to figure out where they were. Hands held tight, they stepped back onto the street, seeking answers without appearing _too_ obvious. Now that they looked “normal” far fewer people gave them even a passing glance. The English accents confirmed some of Emma’s suspicions; they were in England but where? London? Manchester? York? Liverpool? Her lackluster education didn’t really prepare her for something like this.

“Stay here, lass,” Killian whispered, eyeing a newsstand across the street from them.

“Where are you going?”

“Back in a tic.” He gave her hand a squeeze then marched purposefully across the busy lane. He had to dodge a couple of carriages—Emma was afraid he would get trampled—but it played into his plan. He walked casually past the stand, then doubled back in the crowd. That allowed him to disappear behind it and smuggle one of the papers into his coat. It bulged a little as he made his way back to his wife.

“Good grief, Killian! Be careful!”

He smirked. “I didn’t know you cared, darling.”

She rolled her eyes and smacked his shoulder. “This isn’t a game, you know. We are in serious trouble!”

“We’ve been in trouble before, Swan. Relax. Try to have some fun.”

“I don’t want to have fun, I want to go home.”

His features softened. “We’ll get home, love. I promise you. But at least we’re together, yeah?”

She smiled, the tension leeching out of her, just a little. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Now let’s see where we dropped into.” Together, they shook out the paper. It was the _London Times._ Well, that answered one question. The date read October 1, 1839.

“1839?!” Emma shrieked softly. She glanced around quickly, but no one seemed to notice them.

“Is that bad?”

“Killian, that’s almost two hundred years in the past!”

“Well, you did say that the lad was writing in a storybook.”

“Are you saying my son’s trying to change the past?”

Killian squeezed her hand. “Of course not, love. But you have to admit that we don’t know much about the scope of his power. Neither does he. It’s not wrong for him to experiment.”

“It is if he changes something!”

“But we don’t know that he did. We don’t know anything yet. All we have to do is find our way out.”

“But how?” They had no clues, aside from the illustration Emma had seen.

“But being our usual resourceful selves, Swan.” He kissed her temple.

She sighed at the feel of his lips on her skin. He always knew how to make her feel better. She looped her arm through his; they needed to find a place to stop and think. Plus, she was starving. They found a nearby coffee house and got a table. They got some odd glances; the shop’s clientele was exclusively male, but Emma didn’t care. Her glare practically dared someone to demand she leave. No one did. Killian continued to peruse the newspaper, hoping it would give them some further clues. After about an hour, he tossed it down in a huff. Emma set her tea cup aside, intrigued by an illustration in the paper. She unfolded the broadsheet, leaning in to see the woodcarving better. It was a young woman, pretty, very regal looking. She wore a tiara. Why did she look familiar?

The caption read: _Her Majesty the Queen._

Her heart dropped. No. It _couldn’t_ be. It made no sense. Why would Henry be interested in her? Why would he be writing about a queen who died long before he was born? She thought he was interested in fairy tale characters, not real people.

Emma looked white as a sheet, almost like she’d seen a ghost. “Emma, love, what’s the matter?”

It took her a moment to realize he’d spoken. She pointed at the picture. “I know who the woman in the picture is.”

“You do? Who is she?”

“Killian, it’s Queen Victoria.”

His eyes went wide as saucers. In his time in Storybrooke, he’d taken to reading up on the history of his new home, especially naval history. In doing that, it was impossible not to acquire some knowledge of the British Empire and the Queen who reigned over it. “Are you sure?”

“Who else could it be?”

“But why would our Henry be interested in her?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. But I have a feeling that she’s the way we get out of here.”

 

* * *

 

Victoria stepped into her study, trying to suppress the butterflies in her stomach. What did she have to be nervous about? She’d met with her Prime Minister hundreds of times. Possibly thousands. This should be no different than the rest.

Only it was different. She was different.

Only days ago, she’d been heartbroken, bereft. She believed that she would never be happy, never have the kind of love she craved. Foolish, always so foolish. She’d placed her heart in another’s hands and watched him shatter it. So tenderly, so sweetly, yet shattered all the same. Lord M looked in her eyes and lied to her. She knew that now. She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t upset. She knew he was doing what he thought was best for her.

He just happened to be wrong.

Because she knew now. She knew he felt as she did. The flowers didn’t lie. And his costume! He’d come to her ball dressed as the Leicester to her Elizabeth! Young she may be, unwise in the ways of romance too, but there was no mistaking his words. He loved her. Her dearest, most beloved Lord M _loved_ her. That simple knowledge kept her warm, filled her chest with glee. The odds were most definitely stacked against them, but she was stubborn and resourceful. More importantly, she was _Queen._

If there was a way for her to have her Lord M, she would find it. Mama, Uncle Leopold and Parliament be damned.

“The Prime Minister.”

The door opened; Lord M stepped through it. Victoria felt her heart literally skip a beat as she drank him in. He was dressed in her favorite brushed green velvet jacket, so handsome. The jacket brought out his eyes, which lit up as they locked with hers. She held her breath as he knelt in front of her and kissed her hand. His lips seemed to burn against her skin; Victoria struggled to keep her face impassive.

She wasn’t sure she succeeded.

“Ma’am.”

“It is good to see you, Lord M.”

He gave her that secret smirk that she loved. “It is good to be seen, Ma’am. I trust you slept well?”

“As well as can be expected.”

He tilted his head, curious. “Is there anything I can do, Ma’am?”

 _Marry me?_ She thought. “I thought I might go riding this afternoon. It has been some time. I find I miss it.”

Melbourne stared at her intently for a moment, his green eyes bright and on fire. It made her breath catch. “Indeed. The weather is fine and quite warm for October.”

“Perhaps you would like to accompany me?”

“If that is your wish, Majesty.”

She smiled, triumph shining in her eyes. “It is, Lord M.”

“Then I shall do my best to be a worthwhile companion.”

There it was again. That word. Companion. Lord M was more than her Prime Minister; she’d come to rely on him. He taught her so much about the business of being Queen; she would have been quite lost without him. He had a way of explaining politics and state policy without making her feel slow or stupid, something Victoria was quite sure Sir John and her own mother had wished her to be. So they could control her.

Victoria hated it.

Lord M never made her feel that way. He respected her as his monarch, as a person with at least _some_ intelligence and good sense. Victoria knew she was young, had a tendency of impulsiveness. Her mistakes so far were entirely her own. Why could people not see that? Lord M had only ever given her sage advice; it was her fault that she did not always heed it. Queen she might be, but she was not faultless.

Lord M was the only person who loved her despite those flaws.

How could she not want him? How could anyone not see how happy he made her? Did her royalty mean that she had no right to be happy? Lord M had been right about one thing. She needed to be loved. She craved it. She wanted to be loved as a woman, not as a Queen. She did not want to be Elizabeth.

She wanted to be Victoria.

They spent a pleasant few hours at her boxes, going through her voluminous correspondence and dispatches. She signed papers, read more, listened to Lord M describe the latest news from the House. Victoria liked to be kept apprised of the news; she thought it made her a better Queen. More importantly, these hours were precious to her, these hours with Lord M. She could admire him without comment, soak in his handsome face, his witty stories. All without the disapproving glares of her mother or Uncle Leopold.

They made her want to scream with frustration!

Did they not think she knew her duty? Just because she wasn’t in any great hurry to marry, did not mean she did not understand that she must. However, her marriage wasn’t solely about England. She needed it for her own domestic happiness. How could she be a great Queen if she was paired with someone that did not suit her? Victoria knew the history of her family, too well. Some she gleaned on her own, listening to the whispers of Sir John back at Kensington. She learned more from Lord M, on their long walks through the palace. Buckingham Palace and Windsor were filled with portraits of her ancestors; Lord M answered her questions about them. The lack of happiness depressed her and made her even more determined not to suffer such a fate.

Somehow, she would find a way.

“Shall we, Ma’am?”

“Hmmm?” She’d gotten distracted, watching the way her Prime Minister’s hands moved, so graceful.

Melbourne smiled. “I thought you wanted to go riding?”

“Oh! Yes! Thank you for the reminder, Lord M.”

Melbourne smiled indulgently as she left to put on her riding habit. He knew exactly where her attention was; he’d always been keenly attuned to her. It was exhilarating and depressing all at once. An exquisite kind of torture, to be so close to her, yet so far. Outwardly, nothing had changed. He was still her Prime Minister, her teacher and her friend. He’d done something unforgiveable, lied to her, let her believe that he felt less for her than he did. It was for her own good, or so he told himself.

In truth, he was protecting himself as much as her.

He was a bloody coward.

And yet, he knew she deserved better. More. He loved her, oh how he loved her, but how could he make her happy, even if they could be together? He was so much older, had already lived his life. She made him feel young again, breathed life into his staid existence. He adored her for it, his little fiery Queen. But she deserved someone young, someone she could grow old with.

He was already old.

She met him by the stables, the grooms looking discreetly away as he helped her on her horse. Victoria beamed at him, her whole face alight with happiness. It made his heart clench; he had no right to her smiles. Yet he would cherish them as long as they were directed his way. Melbourne mounted his own horse, kicking the beast into an easy walk.

“Where to, Ma’am?”

Victoria shrugged. “Is a destination always a prerequisite?”

“Not necessarily. Some prefer it.”

“Do you?”

“I find I’m enjoying a burst of spontaneity of late, Ma’am.”

“I am glad to hear it.” Then, with an impish grin, she kicked her horse into a quick trot, shooting away from him. Her pleased laughed caught in the air; Melbourne couldn’t help but smile back. He hurried to follow, not wishing to let her out of his sight. She was young enough to be carefree, secure in the knowledge that he would follow. He was helpless to resist her, drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

It was frightening, how much he longed to bask in her fire.

Victoria let out a whoop, a quite undignified sound, but she found that she didn’t care. She loved the freedom, the way the wind swept over her skin, the fluid movement of the horse under her. She’d become a very accomplished rider of late; it was one of her great joys. The lane started to give way to trees; she reigned up gently, heart racing. Lord M was at her side in seconds, his green eyes deftly taking her in from head to toe. She felt her heart flutter in her chest, his look far from chaste.

“Lord M?”

“Enjoying yourself, Ma’am?”

She smiled. “Very much.” She patted her horse’s neck tenderly. “It’s been far too long since we’ve ridden out, Lord M.”

He didn’t want to remind her of all their mutual heartache in recent weeks, so he let her comment pass. “Perhaps we should let the horses rest for a few moments, Ma’am?”

“An excellent idea.” Victoria watched in utter fascination as he dismounted, throwing his leg over the head of his horse! She recalled vividly the first time she saw him, doing precisely the same at Kensington. How young and naïve she’d been then! Victoria was still young, but she felt so much more now. He appeared at her side, holding his arms out. Victoria willingly placed herself in his hands, the warmth of him soaking through her riding habit. She fought to contain her flush as he moved to tie up the horses, securing them to a thick tree.

“Shall we?”

Victoria looped her arm through his, relishing how scandalized her family would be if they knew.  She loathed causing anyone distress, but she did not wish to be ruled. She was Queen, but more importantly she was a woman. A woman who did not believe that happiness and duty were mutually exclusive.

“I do love this time of year.”

“The fall, Ma’am?”

“Yes. Do you not agree?”

“I hardly take notice of such things anymore, Ma’am.”

“Well, perhaps you should. It’s beautiful.”

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “It is that.”

They were quiet for some time, simply enjoying each other’s company. Victoria’s heart beat with hope; could this be a glimpse of their future? Where he was no longer Prime Minister, but her husband? She would miss him dearly as the former but craved him as the latter. She was certain he could make her happy, he already did.

Melbourne couldn’t stop looking at her, secretly thankful that she did not seem to notice his gaze. He was trying to burn this moment into his memory for the lonely days without her. For he would have to give her up. He’d already tried but failed. He could not fail again. When the time came he needed to give way to her future.

They were two people utterly absorbed in each other, neither noticed the rocky road ahead. Victoria felt her foot slide, the ankle twist, her arm instinctively clutched at her companion’s. She cried out as she lost her balance; Melbourne caught before she could fall. Victoria winced in pain, her ankle smarting.

“Are you alright, Ma’am?” Melbourne asked urgently.

“I think…ow…I think I turned my ankle a bit.” She didn’t miss the way he held her, cradled against his chest. He was so warm.

“Do you think you can stand?”

“I’m not sure.”

Melbourne nodded, glancing around for a place to set her down. Selfishly, he enjoyed holding her—she was so small—but he needed to see to her injury. There was a soft patch of grass to his right; he maneuvered them slowly, not wanting to hurt her. Melbourne knelt, gently depositing his Queen on the ground.

Victoria hissed, a flash of pain shooting up her leg. In an instant, Melbourne’s large hands cradled hers. “Ma’am?”

“Really?” she whispered. “You’re going to call me that right now?”

“I have no right to call you anything else. Ma’am.”

Boldly, she curled her fingers around his. She couldn’t dismiss how _right_ it felt. “What if I wanted to give you that right?”

Melbourne swallowed; this was neither the time nor the place. His first concern was her welfare, regardless of his own. She was hurt, and he needed to tend her. Perhaps, just this once, he could appease her. Perhaps, just this once, he could give her what they both desired. “Victoria,” he said softly. “May I?”

It felt like all the air had been sucked out of her lungs. How much had she longed to hear her name on his lips? It took her a moment to realize he wanted her permission for something. Absently, she nodded. “Yes, Lord M. Please.”

Unable to believe his luck, Melbourne tugged her skirts free to reveal her riding boot. He picked her leg up gingerly, turning it to see how badly she was injured. Victoria was brave, so brave, sitting completely still as he examined her. “I believe it is lightly sprained,” he said quietly, biting back “ma’am” at the last second. “It should heal quickly.” She was young, her body resilient. _Don’t think about that,_ he scolded himself. _You have no right to her body._

“I am sorry, Lord M,” Victoria murmured. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“I don’t think either of us were. But perhaps we should.”

“Lord M?”

He released her and drew her skirt back in place. “Ma’am…” He locked eyes with her, drawn into the brilliant blue depths. “Victoria.”

Somehow, she knew what he was going to say. He was going to break both of their hearts. Again. She gripped his hand, tight. “Don’t. Don’t tell me I’m being silly or that I’m too young to know what I want. Who I want. Lord M, _William.”_

His eyes shot to hers, stunned at her use of his Christian name. She was the Queen; he couldn’t gainsay her, even if he wanted to. And he did not want to. He’d fantasized about her using it far too many times, in far too many compromising circumstances. He hated himself for it, but she was so beautiful, and he loved her. He was only a man, after all. Belatedly, he opened his mouth to protest, to bring them both back to reality, but she surprised him again. Always surprising him, his Victoria.

She didn’t think. She _couldn’t_ think. If she thought too much, she would ruin the moment. She needed him to understand that she was serious, that she wanted him and only him. Ever. Before she could stop herself, Victoria leaned in and pressed her lips to his. She’d never done this before, aside from polite cheek kisses, family only. It was obvious she’d taken him by surprise; he hesitated for the briefest second. She almost pulled away, convinced she was doing it wrong, that she was some how offensive to him. No sooner did her mind decide than she felt a gentle hand cup the back of her head, drawing her closer. A surprised sound caught in her throat, his lips warm and firm on hers. Her heart raced, blood rushed in her ears. Victoria reached out blindly, her fingers curling in his riding jacket.

Melbourne knew it was wrong, horribly, terribly wrong, but he could not find the strength to push her away. Her kisses were too sweet, too innocent. Everything he he’d imagined and more. His hand dropped to her neck, mindful of her bonnet, his fingers lightly caressing the back on her neck. Victoria made a deliciously needy sound and he was completely lost.

Victoria still had no idea what she was doing; as always, she relied on her beloved Lord M to guide her. He gently tilted her head, breaking the kiss for a moment. Then he was back, mouth back on hers, sending tingles all over her body. An ache she didn’t recognize began to build, she clung to him. She could feel his heart racing under her palm. She was dizzy, she was _happy_ , she would never forget this moment.

Then it was over.

Melbourne mustered the last of his good sense and pushed her away. Not forcefully, still so gentle, but Victoria did not miss the determination in her Lord M’s eyes. She felt bereft, _cold_ , but she knew this was the time for her to be brave. She would not let him steal the happiness of this moment from her, even though she knew he thought it was best. She would fight for this, fight for him, even if he would not fight for himself.

“My apologies, Ma’am,” Melbourne said, the heartbreak clear in his voice. “I forgot myself.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Lord M,” she said briskly. “I loved every second.”

 _So did I,_ he thought. Still, he shook his head. “We can not,” he bit out. “You know we can’t.” If anyone had discovered them…Melbourne shuddered to think. A constitutional crisis would be the least of their worries. Leopold would probably skin him alive. “You’re the _Queen.”_

“Am I not also a woman? Am I not flesh and blood?” She looked determined, pressing her palm flat against his. Melbourne swallowed, astonished by her, yet unable to pull away. “Am I?”

“You are,” he croaked finally. “A very beautiful one, Ma’am.”

Victoria ignored that and slid her fingers between his. “Is that not enough?” When he did not reply, she tried again. “Tell me you feel nothing,” she pleaded. “Tell me you do not want me, as I want you. But do not lie, William. Not to me. Please.”

“You know I can’t. I can’t give you what you want.”

“There is no one here but us,” she whispered. “I simply need to know. It is so upsetting, believing you are alone.”

She was going to be the death of him one day. He was on a road straight to hell, without the benefit of good intentions. He wanted her too badly. He must resist. He _must_. For her own good. And yet…and yet…he could not lie. He could not shatter her again. To do so would be to destroy all that was good and pure in her. And that, he could not do. “Victoria…you are not alone. I promise you.”

She bestowed him with a happy watery smile. “Thank you.”

They stared into each other’s eyes for a few more precious seconds; complete understanding and love shined clearly. The moment was broken by distant shouts; the Queen’s equerries searching for them. Melbourne released her hands and moved, helping her to stand. He slid back into the mask he wore in company, the one that he used to protect her. “Here, Alfred!” he shouted. “The Queen has taken a fall!”

“Hardly a fall,” she muttered. She clung to his waist, even though she didn’t need it to support herself. In fact, her ankle felt much better. “I’ll be fine.”

“If you keep complaining, Ma’am, I’ll be forced to summon the physician.”

“You wouldn’t!” she cried, affronted.

He smirked at her. “I assure you, Ma’am. I am most serious.”

Victoria paused, holding his eyes. Could he mean what she hoped he meant? Would he fight for them? She prayed that he would. She wanted that, more than anything. It would serve Mama and Uncle Leopold right, trying to force her into a marriage she did not want or desire.

She never got to ask him more about his intentions; Lord Alfred was hurrying forward. “It’s just a sprain,” she complained as four strapping stable boys brought a litter. Melbourne and Alfred helped her into the litter, ignoring her complaints. “I’m fine!”

“You should stay off your feet for a _few_ hours, Ma’am,” Melbourne soothed, his voice washing over her like a balm. “Just to be sure.”

“Fine.” She didn’t like it, knowing it would take him away from her. Victoria felt different, reborn somehow after their precious time in the forest. She was certain the change shown in her eyes, but no one seemed to notice. No one aside from Lord M. He kept glancing at her as they carried her back to the palace, his face unreadable. She could not tell what he was thinking, and it frightened her. She could not bear it if he came to regret their stolen kiss.

“Majesty!” Skirts held high, Lehzen dashed down the back stairs, her stern German face awash in worry. Victoria did not have a chance to reply before her mother followed. “Drina! Drina! How many times have I warned you about going riding!”

“I am _fine,_ Mama, Lehzen,” she assured them. “Lord M was with me.”

Both women shot him a nasty look; Victoria did not appreciate it one bit. “Lord Melbourne’s help is what I am afraid of, Drina.”

“Really, Mama! This must end. I am Queen and may go riding with whomever I wish, whenever I wish.”

“But Drina! Think of Albert! What would he say about you…carrying on so!”

The surrounding servants discreetly averted their eyes, not wishing to be privy to the argument between Queen and Duchess. “I do not give a fig about what Albert thinks!” Victoria cried. “You would love nothing better than a husband to rule me!”

“Drina!” The Duchess looked utterly shocked and Victoria knew she’d gone too far. Her mother hated Lord M; fighting with her was not the best way to get her on her side in the battle that was coming. And Victoria, the soldier’s daughter, knew that a very great battle was coming.

“I am tired,” she said finally. “And my ankle is sore. I am sorry, Mama.”

“Of course, my darling. You must rest.” But the Duchess did not look entirely appeased. However, she chose not to argue the point. She ducked a curtsey, then took her leave. Victoria was so wrapped up in the fight with her mother that she missed Lord M’s departure. She had no choice to but allow the servants to take her to her apartment, where her ladies were waiting. Emma and Harriet commiserated with her while Lehzen fussed; would her loyal governess ever see her as a woman grown and not a child?

“Will you be taking dinner in your room, Ma’am?” Emma Portman asked, her eyes sympathetic.

“I believe I will,” Victoria replied, feeling a little sorry for herself. She wanted to see Lord M, to relive that magical moment in the forest. Alas, she could not. Then she had an idea. “Could you do something for me, Emma?”

“If it is in my power, of course, Ma’am.”

Victoria stood too quickly; pain lanced up her leg. She ignored it. Her ladies watched as she hobbled over to her writing desk and selected a clean sheet of parchment. Victoria paused, gathering her thoughts, her pen poised over the ink. What should she say? Were there any words to describe the feelings that swirled in her chest? She was not good with words; that was much more Lord M’s area of expertise. But she had to try.

_Dearest Lord M,_

_I pray this note finds you well. My ankle is very much on the mend and I wished to thank you for your selflessness at my lack of grace. I hope you can forgive me for the scene with my mother; I missed you the moment I realized you had gone. As always, our time together is the sunshine in my days. I very much hope that sunshine will return soon._

_Yours,_

_Victoria_

If such a note fell into the wrong hands…but she trusted Emma. Emma Portman was her friend as well as Lord M’s. She folded the note carefully once the ink dried, sealing it with her personal seal. Then she pressed it into Emma’s hands. “From your hands to his,” she said quietly. “No one else.”

Emma’s eyes widened for a moment, then she nodded. “It shall be done, Majesty.”

“Thank you.”

All she could do was wait.

* * *

 

“This is crazy!” Emma hissed at her husband.

“Nonsense, Swan. It’s well documented that Her Majesty rides in this very park.”

“You read too much.”

“Never at your expense,” Killian shot back with a saucy grin. In fact, he knew how much his wife loved when he read _to_ her, his voice doing positively wicked things to her. It was a pity that this wasn’t such a time.

“What are we even supposed to do? Say ‘Hi, Your Majesty, but we need you to marry some stuffy German so we can go home?’”

“Of course not. And you don’t know that’s what needs to happen.”

“It’s October 1839,” she countered, as if he was being deliberately obtuse. “You said this is when she gets engaged to that Albert guy.”

“It is, but something about it never quite sat right with me.”

Emma looked askance. “What’s to ‘sit right’?” she demanded. “You’re not even from this world!”

“Neither are you,” he pointed out. “This might not even be the exact history I’ve read. We don’t know what Henry’s done to this point.”

Emma frowned. Killian had a point. Henry’s powers were so undefined; he might have created a whole other universe, like Isaac did. Only with real people rather than fairy take characters. Hell, the fact that _her_ powers worked in this world was a sign all was not as it should be. She really needed to have a stern lecture with her son about the unpredictability of magic. If they ever got out of here. No, _when_ they got out. If she didn’t get some relief from this corset soon, she could not be held responsible for her actions.

“Swan,” Killian hissed. “There she is.”

Emma swiveled her head, catching sight of the carriage. It was an open air carriage, black, pulled by two pairs of large bay horses. The woman from the illustration was unmistakable now, more petite than Emma expected, with dark hair coiled neatly on top of her head under her bonnet. Victoria glanced from side to side, drinking in the waves and cheers of her people, occasionally waving back.

“She’s pretty.”

Killian shrugged. “Perhaps. A bit young though.”

Emma smacked his arm. “Says the man more than two hundred years older than his wife!”

Killian grinned. “Aye, but I’ve preserved my youthful glow.”

“I’ll give you youthful glow, Mister.”

“Captain, Swan. We’re in company.”

Emma rolled her eyes. Yes, Killian looked fantastic in the period garb, but she wasn’t about to have him go all Victorian aristocrat on her. Not her pirate. “What do we do? We can’t just walk up to her!”

Killian never took his eyes off the carriage. There was some jostling in the crowd; his instincts warned him that something was amiss. “Perhaps we won’t have to.” He knew very well that the Queen had been shot at numerous times; if this was one such time, that could give them the chance they sought. “Follow me, Swan.”

Emma wondered what he was about until she saw it too. She was the Sheriff, after all. There was a suspicious looking character following the carriage, average height, a bit chubby. He wore a hat low over his eyes and Emma nodded at Killian. They saw the man reach for something in his pocket at the same moment; they moved as one, Emma cursing her skirts.

“Down!” Killian screamed.

“Everyone down!” Emma called out in her loudest Sheriff voice. People all around them seemed to freeze, but it only lasted a heartbeat. A second later, there was chaos. The Queen’s companion flung themselves over her; men, women and children dashed in all directions. All but one moved away from the carriage. Their prey fought his way through, arm raised. Killian made a wild dive, taking the man’s legs out at the last second. Emma flung her hands out, using her magic to bind the perpetrator; ropes wound around his wrists. The man writhed in pain, Killian’s knee on his chest.

“Check on the Queen,” Killian growled.

Emma didn’t need to be told twice. She was only going to get one shot at this. “Your Majesty? Are you alright?”

The young woman pushed herself up, scowling at her protector. “I am _fine_ , Lehzen,” she snapped. Her bonnet was in disarray, her shawl askew, but the Queen looked surprisingly calm. Emma was impressed. This wasn’t the old sad woman she knew from photographs. This was a young woman, vibrant and alive. And _brave._ Victoria locked eyes with her savior, then widened in shock. “You’re a woman.”

“Um, yes, Your Majesty.” Emma didn’t know what to do; it occurred to her she should curtsey. She wasn’t sure she did it right, but Victoria didn’t seem to mind. “Are you alright?”

Victoria found herself smiling at the odd woman. She couldn’t pinpoint what made her so odd, perhaps her forthright nature? “I am perfectly well. Thank you for your assistance.”

“It’s what we do,” Emma replied simply. “My husband and I, that is. We help people.”

“I am most grateful.” Police were arriving from all sides, quick to relieve Killian of his prisoner. Emma was grateful when he joined her, bowing elegantly to the Queen. Bastard. “What are your names?”

It was Emma who spoke. “Emma Swan-Jones,” she said. Killian elbowed her, and she finished. “Ma’am.”

“Captain Killian Jones, Your Majesty.”

“I truly can not thank you enough,” Victoria said, smiling. Her heart was still beating wildly in her chest from surprise, but she wasn’t afraid. “Is there anything I can do?”

“The pleasure was all ours, Your Majesty.” Killian shared a glance with his wife. “We are just happy you are safe.”

Victoria watched the police take her would be attacker away. It was highly unusual, but she never met anyone as fascinating at the pair in front of her. Aside from Lord M, of course. “You must come to Buckingham Palace,” she offered. “I insist.”

“Ma’am, we couldn’t impose…”

“Believe me, there are more than enough rooms. I would like to thank you properly.”

Lehzen shook her head. “Majesty…”

“It is my palace, Lehzen. Would you have me put my saviors out on the street?”

“Certainly not, Majesty.”

“Then it is settled.” She returned to Killian and Emma. “Captain Jones, would you accept my invitation for you and your wife?”

“We would be honored, Your Majesty.”

“I will see you soon then.” She smiled at them as the carriage began to roll away; Emma didn’t know what to think. The Queen certainly wasn’t anything she was expecting. It made her think again about the illustration she found in Henry’s book. Victoria appeared so heartbroken in that picture. Had anything changed? Why was she so sad in that moment? Who was the man behind her? Did that have something to do with how they got here?

“Swan, are you alright?”

Emma curled her arm through his. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking.”

“Well done on the restraints,” he murmured as they followed the Queen’s carriage. “Bastard never stood a chance.”

“I had to do something. No handcuffs.”

“A pity, that is.” He waggled his brows at her suggestively.

“Seriously?”

“What? You love a good adventure as much as I, darling.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You keep telling yourself that.” Emma rolled her eyes at him, ignoring the voice that said he was right. She met Queen freaking Victoria! And not the old one everyone saw in the statues and stamps and stuff. This woman was young, just coming into her own. Emma felt a little envious, recalling her life at that age. Emma had come so far since then, with a husband and a son she adored; she wondered what the future held in store on their journey home.

No matter what, she knew that she and Killian were in it together.

* * *

 

“Lord Melbourne! Lord Melbourne!”

Melbourne turned, surprised at the near hysterical summons. “Yes?”

The young man skidded to a stop, panting with his hands on his knees. “My lord…there’s been an incident. With the Queen.”

Melbourne’s hackles instantly went up, dread seizing his heart; his voice, however, was deadly calm. “Where is the Queen?”

“Buckingham Palace,” his secretary replied, still out of breath. “She’s safe.”

Melbourne relaxed, just a fraction. He couldn’t describe the fear that gripped him, bone deep and cold. If he lost her…he would never recover. She was his reason to go on. “What happened?”

With shaking breaths, the young man described the situation as he knew it. The Queen had been out for a drive with that German watchdog of hers. An unknown man tried to accost her carriage, but he was stopped by a pair of bystanders. Most miraculous escape. Melbourne knew his Queen, she was young, resilient, brave to a fault. Still, he could not shake his need to see her, to confirm with his own eyes that she was safe and unharmed.

“Melbourne!”

Melbourne inwardly groaned; of course, it was Peel. How many connections did the man have? Then again, the Metropolitan Police force had always been his baby. Melbourne should consider himself lucky he heard the news from his secretary and not his political rival. “I already know, Sir Robert.”

“My men have the, ah, assailant in custody,” Peel said quickly, more worry in his face than Melbourne expected. It was no secret Peel was not an admirer of Melbourne’s close relationship with the Queen. “He’s being questioned now.”

“Do we know who he is, or why he wanted to harm Her Majesty?”

“We’re not sure he truly wished to harm her,” Peel said, completely baffled. “But he did carry a pistol.”

Melbourne’s hand shook with barely suppressed fury. Peel was utterly useless. He needed to see Victoria. Now. “Then what other explanation can there be, Peel? Her Majesty has had a close escape!”

Peel was taken aback by Melbourne’s tone. The man could be infuriatingly calm. Not so now. “Are we not a nation of laws, Prime Minister?” Peel shot back. “Innocent until proven guilty.”

Melbourne forced himself to relax. He was dangerously close to giving himself away. He simply could not fathom a world without Victoria. “Very well. I expect an update the moment you have information.”

“You have my word.” Then Peel’s face softened, just a fraction. “You are not the only one who cares about the well being of our little queen, Melbourne.”

“Thank you, Sir Robert.”

“Perhaps we should gather more facts before enlightening the House? I’ll take care of my people.”

Melbourne nodded gratefully. He could send his secretary on the same errand for the Whigs. Wild speculation was the province of the newspapers. There was no reason to cause a panic. The Queen was safe in her palace, as she should be.

After sending his secretary on his way, Melbourne summoned his carriage. He cursed the fact that he had not ridden in this morning; there hadn’t been a pressing need at the time. As he made his way toward the palace, Melbourne couldn’t help the twinge of guilt that settled in his belly. Was this his fault? He visited the Queen almost every day, but he’d begged off today, citing pressing business in the House. The truth was much more selfish. He did not trust himself. Now that he had a small taste of her, wanted more. He wanted _her_ , Victoria, a woman so beautiful it made his chest ache.

She was the one thing he could not have.

Even if he wasn’t over twice her age, he would be utterly unsuitable! A lowly viscount, barely of the aristocracy! A man who had more than one scandal attached to his name! A man who’d been unable to make his first wife happy, weighed down with the knowledge that it was his own fault. Caro was a wild spirit, vibrant, and he’d ignored her. No wonder she flew into the arms of Byron.

He needed to stop this. He couldn’t have Victoria for his own. He needed to be content with things as they were. Soak in these last days before she was married and out of his reach. Just a few more days in the sun was all he truly wanted.

The palace guards knew his carriage well; they opened the gates readily. Melbourne found himself scowling at that; he could have been anyone! Perhaps he should talk to her about tightening the palace’s security.

Melbourne could just picture her face if he suggested such a thing.

As he descended from the carriage and headed inside, something else niggled at him. What of these bystanders? Could a pair of random citizens take down an attacker? Where were the Queen’s soldiers? So many questions. Too many. As a political figure, he could accept danger for himself. But not _her_. She was light and beauty, wanting nothing more than to serve her people to the best of her ability. How could anyone not love her?

 _Don’t go down that road,_ he scolded himself. _You can’t, no matter how much you may wish it._

Melbourne waited impatiently while Penge went to announce him. Court formality was keeping her from him! He needed to know she was alright! “The Prime Minister!”

Victoria’s shout surprised him. “Lord M!”

Quickly, Melbourne entered the room, his eyes seeking Victoria’s. Her cobalt blue irises shined so bright, clearly happy to see him despite her fright. He knelt at her feet, brushing his lips over her outstretched hand. “Ma’am, I came as soon as I heard. Are you well?”

Victoria felt herself settle, Lord M’s presence most welcome. In truth, he was the only person she wished to see right now. But the proprieties must be observed. “I am quite well, Lord M. I hardly knew what had happened until it was over.”

“What did happen, Ma’am? Reports are incomplete. However, I can report that the police do have your attacker in custody.”

“That’s certainly a relief. As for what happened…”

Emma saw the Queen struggling to sort out her thoughts. Something about this man—handsome, no doubt, if older, not that there was anything wrong with that—made Victoria nervous. No, perhaps not nervous. At least not from fear. It reminded her of how Killian made her feel, back on the beanstalk. Like he could see right through her.

Oh boy, they were in trouble.

“Perhaps we can help,” Emma said quickly. She rose from the settee she’d been sharing with the Queen. She bowed her head respectfully. “Prime Minister.”

“Oh! Where are my manners?” Victoria cried, shooting Emma a grateful look. Everything happened so fast; Lord M had been all Victoria could think about since the incident. She _needed_ to see him. She thought she did an admirable job concealing how out of sorts she felt but having Lord M there was throwing off her composure. It was their first meeting since their ride. She got the distinct impression he was avoiding her. And now, to see him after her very life had been threatened…she wanted nothing more than for him to hold her.

She wanted something that was impossible.

“Lord M, this is Emma Swan-Jones and her husband, Captain Killian Jones. They rescued me.”

Killian moved to stand at Emma’s side and extended his hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, Lord Melbourne.”

“Her Majesty’s Government is most grateful for your assistance, Captain.” The other man had a surprisingly strong grip; Melbourne didn’t quite know what to make of him. Or why Victoria felt compelled to bring the pair to the palace. Gratitude, he supposed.

“Truth be told, my wife did all the hard work.” Killian looked fondly at his wife; it was obvious that they were very much in love.

Emma wanted to roll her eyes but fought the urge. They needed to make a good impression. After spending time with Victoria, Emma was even more certain the Queen was connected to their way home. How? She had no idea. It was just a feeling. But Killian always encouraged her to trust her gut. Right now, it was telling her that the little queen was the key to finding a way home. “Don’t be modest, Killian. You spotted the trouble first.”

Melbourne glanced between the pair. “There is an investigation under way. If there is anything you can tell us that will help…”

“We were just walking along the Mall, weren’t we, Killian?”

“Aye. This bloke, he kept staring at Her Majesty, following the carriage down the lane. I saw him reach for something and reacted.”

“You were very brave,” Victoria said earnestly. “I noticed nothing. Thank you, Captain.”

“Long years at sea make one wary, Ma’am.”

“You’re a sailor?” Melbourne asked, surprised.

“Long ago,” Killian replied, noncommittal. “I am happily married these days.”

“You simply must stay,” Victoria said. “For a few days, at least. I know no other way to thank you.”

“We didn’t do much,” Emma protested, even though sticking around would give them more time to figure things out.

“You saved my life,” Victoria said firmly. “I insist. Please.” Victoria genuinely like the pair; she never got to meet anyone outside of her circumscribed circle. She wanted to learn all about them.

Emma nodded. “Thank you, Ma’am.”

“Lehzen! Please have a suite made up for the Joneses!” she ordered, using her most regal tone. Lehzen did not like her plans one bit, Victoria knew. But she was determined to have her way. “Provide them with anything they require.”

Lehzen curtseyed deeply. “As you wish, Majesty.”

 _No tension there,_ Emma thought. She hadn’t meant to cause trouble; hell, she didn’t even want to be here! Her corset was killing her, her feet hurt from the damn shoes. Killian looked at her like she was stunning, but he always did that. It didn’t make her feel all that better. Emma just wanted to go home.

Killian wrapped his arm loosely around his wife’s waist, coaxing her back to the settee. “Alright there, Swan?”

“As okay as I can be with whalebone digging into my ribs.”

He smiled softly, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You’ll be free soon. We’re getting our own suite.”

Emma allowed herself to lean against him; she was tired. She forgot how exhausting adventures could be. “What would I give for a long hot bath?”

“I’m sure we could ask for one.”

“What’s this ‘we’ stuff? You’ll get us kicked out of here!”

“Pirate, darling,” he reminded her. “And you, dearest wife, look utterly delectable in this gown.”

“You’re just upset you haven’t gotten laid in a few days.”

“Now who’s scandalizing us, Swan?” He took her hand in his, his strong fingers massaging her tense muscles. Emma didn’t want to relax—they were in a serious fix—but she couldn’t resist his touch. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with enjoying ourselves while we’re here.”

“We’ll see, sailor. We’ll see.” She felt herself melting into him; with everything that happened, she almost forgot about their original plans for the weekend. Spending an ungodly amount of time in bed. Perhaps that wouldn’t be so bad.

Victoria glanced meaningfully at her Prime Minister. With her new friends being taken care of, she hoped to steal a moment with Lord M. He gave her an imperceptible nod, following her to the bay window. “I am glad to see you well, Ma’am,” he murmured once they’d separated themselves.

“It happened too quickly for me to be frightened,” she admitted, equally quiet. “That happened after.”

Lord M’s eyes softened, the concern for her clear. She knew down to her very soul that he cared about _her,_ Victoria, not the monarch. She saw his hand twitch, reaching for her for just a split second. Then he pulled away, remembering himself. “I am very sorry you had to go through that, Ma’am.” _I am sorry I wasn’t there,_ his eyes said.

Victoria ignored his hesitation, curling her hands around his larger ones. “You’re here _now_ , Lord M. And that is all I want.”

“It is all I want too, Ma’am.” He let her squeeze his hands before gently letting her go. They needed to be careful, especially now.

Emma stared the pair for a long moment, then turned to Killian. He shared her worry. They’d both been around too many True Love couples not to see what was right in front of them. What the hell were they supposed to do now?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh! Thank you for all the positive feedback! The muse is very happy! I'm really enjoying this; it's a nice change. As you may or may not have noticed, I upgraded this fic from Mature to Explicit, because married CS is definitely going to indulge in the sexy times. I hope you enjoy this update!

“This is your suite,” their guide said, in accented English. German, Emma assumed, given the Queen’s family background. What had Victoria called her? Baroness something. The woman looked very unhappy to be showing them around the palace. “Dinner will be served promptly at seven. You are expected.”

“Thank you,” Emma replied, hiding her annoyance. Honestly, it wasn’t like they _wanted_ to be here. Emma had a perfectly fine home of her own to return to, thank you very much. “And please thank Her Majesty again for her kindness.”

That seemed to placate the woman a little; she clearly cared about Victoria very much. “I will do that.” Emma wasn’t all that upset as the woman took her leave. The sooner they got out of here, the better.

Killian, as always, seemed to sense her mood. “No use snapping at the locals, Swan,” he murmured as the Baroness left. “They’re liable to think we’re the crazy ones.”

She laughed dryly. “We’re crazy? You’re a fairy tale character and I’m a magical savior. That sounds pretty crazy to me.”

“Ah, but your world hasn’t discovered my existence yet,” he teased.

Emma looked askance. “Seriously?”

“Henry’s picture box says that my story wasn’t written down until the early twentieth century.”

“Huh. Who knew?” She was still reeling from that knowledge and hardly took in the room around them. When she did finally get a look, she gasped. “Oh wow.”

“This is a palace, Swan. Where did you think we would stay? The broom cupboard?”

She scowled. “Well, no, but this is…wow.” The walls were painted a soft blue, trimmed in white wood, the edges gilded with gold. Two huge windows let in an insane amount of light. The furniture was dark rich oak, the chairs upholstered to match the walls. It was really two rooms; one a kind of sitting room with a couple of tables and chairs, the second the bedroom. The largest bed Emma had ever seen lay against the far wall, royal blue hangings pulled back to reveal the heavily embroidered duvet and pillows.

Killian gently wrapped his arms around her wife’s waist, enjoying watching her take it all in. Whether she liked it or not, his Swan was a princess. She deserved this, to be treated like the royalty she was. “Still think we shouldn’t enjoy ourselves, love?”

Emma touched her hands to his. “Killian…”

“We don’t know how long we’re going to be here…”

“You sound like you don’t want to go home.”

“Where would you get a daft notion like that?”

She turned, giving him a look. “Practically from the moment we got here, you’ve been all ‘relax, Swan, have fun, Swan,’” she snapped. “I don’t want to have fun. I want to go home.”

“You miss Henry.”

“Of course, I miss Henry,” she countered. “That’s not the point…”

“But it is. You’re a bloody amazing mum, lass, but you’ve got to let him stand on his own two feet. You can’t coddle him.”

“I do not coddle him!”

“That’s not what he’s told me.”

Emma frowned, confused and hurt. “He said that?”

“Not in so many words. He loves you too much for that. But between you and Regina, he’s been feeling a little oppressed lately. He wants to leave Storybrooke someday and forge his own way, but he doesn’t want to hurt you.”

Emma sucked in a breath; that was exactly what she was afraid of. She didn’t want to miss anymore time. She couldn’t imagine a world without Henry. “I didn’t know.”

Killian drew his wife into his arms. “I love him like he was my own, you know that,” he murmured into her hair. “But one day we’re going to have to let him go.”

Tears stung her eyes; she hadn’t realized how much that fear had been building under the surface. She considered herself the “cool” mom, the one who gave her child the space to be his own person. Regina was the clingy one, not her. At least that’s what she’d thought. But Emma missed the first ten years of his life; her own parents the first twenty eight years of hers. It seemed to be a curse in their family. Sometimes, though she was ashamed to admit it, she was jealous of her brother. He would know their parents his whole life.

“Doesn’t it bother you?”

Killian rubbed her back. “I have loved being a father to your boy, Swan. Of course, I will miss him fiercely.”

“Our boy,” she corrected. “You’re his dad in every way that matters.”

Killian smiled indulgently at her. He loved Henry so much; he did his best to love and guide him. The last Father’s Day, he and Henry spent the day together out on the _Jolly_ , then visited Baelfire’s grave. It was cathartic for both of them. “Perhaps one day Henry’s siblings will keep us busy.”

Emma tightened her arms around her husband’s neck. “You want that?”

Killian frowned. “I’m sorry if I assumed, love…”

She shook her head. “No, no, it’s not that. I would love to have kids with you, Killian.” She carded her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “I guess I’m enjoying being married right now.”

“We have been married for some time, Swan,” he teased.

“I know, but you’re just mine, you know? We live together, we work together. I never expected that I could spend so many hours with one person and not get bored.”

Killian scoffed. “I don’t know if I should take that as a compliment or an insult, Swan.”

She smiled. “A compliment for sure.” She leaned in close, thankful for her shoes. Their lips touched, and her husband’s arms slid around her waist more firmly. She hummed, feeling that all too pleasant thrill slide down her spine. “Husband.” Kiss. “Deputy,” Kiss. “Best friend.” Kiss. “Lover.” Kiss.

Killian growled, yanking her even closer, letting her feel how she affected him. He would never tire of this woman, not if he lived another three hundred years. He nipped at her lip, deepening the kiss, letting her scent fill his senses. “My beautiful Swan…”

Maybe Killian was right, maybe they should enjoy themselves on this adventure they were stuck in. Emma yelped as he scooped her up and carried her to the bed. Her skirts billowed around her, but Killian ignored them in favor of lavishing her straining breasts with attention. Emma moaned, knowing how much he loved her breasts. He yanked down the collar of her dress but was brought up short by her corset.

“See?” she complained, heat burning through her. “It’s annoying.”

“Says you, lass.” He gave her chest a parting kiss, pleased about the faint red marks on her skin. He pressed a fervent kiss to her lips, then slid down the bed.

“Killian?”

“I’ve dreamed about this, darling. Let me?”

She groaned in frustration but nodded all the same. Killian indulged her fantasies all the time. They were quite good at it actually. She braced her elbows on the bed, so she could watch him disappear under her skirt and petticoats. Killian seemed to know what he was doing, and she tried not to think about why that was. She felt his lips hot on her skin, moving up her leg, teasing her. God, she’d missed this. The way he made her feel was unreal.

“Yes,” she breathed, her fingers fumbling with the material of her dress. She wanted to see him, see her husband’s dark head between her thighs. She wasn’t very successful; his lips were melting her from the inside out. He inched closer to her core; Emma was thankful she’d left on her panties from their world. She’d gotten a glimpse of underwear in this world and there was no way she was wearing it. She’d go without first.

Killian would certainly appreciate that.

“Hmm, so wet for me, Swan,” he growled. He ached for her; she was stunning in the gown they’d stolen. She was his princess, his goddess, and he wanted to worship her. He wished for his hook, but he knew that was impossible. Instead, he used the false hand to hold her thighs apart while he drank her in. She smelled incredible, musky and heady; it had been far too long since he tasted her. He stroked her through her panties, relishing her shiver of pleasure.

“Stop teasing!” Emma cried.

“Now why would I do that?” He yanked her panties aside, hovering close, but not touching. Emma whined in frustration, his breath warm on her sensitive skin. He tormented her with light licks, far too short for her liking. Anticipation built within her, the pressure mounted, and he was still hardly touching her.

“Killian…Killian, please,” she whispered. She was wound so tight; she needed him to give her release.

“Please what?”

She snarled, the corset limiting her movement. She could have removed it with magic, but she didn’t want to ruin the moment for Killian. “Make. Me. Come.”

He grinned. “As you wish.” He pressed the flat of his tongue against her, lapping eagerly at her swollen flesh. Emma cried out, thrilled that he was finally giving her what she needed. She reached over her head, fisting the blanket, riding the rising wave. Killian knew her body better than she did, knowing exactly where to stroke her, how much pressure was needed to make her writhe. As his tongue swirled around her aching clit, Emma shuddered, so, so close to falling apart.

Killian could eat her out for hours, but he knew how much she needed this. He could take his time with her later. He eased two fingers into her slick heat and pumped them slowly, giving her a hint of what she would enjoy very soon. He loved pleasuring her; he was perfectly content spending his days naked in their bed. This was so different from their last adventure to the past—they were _married_ now—and he planned on showing her that adventures were more than just magic and danger. Adventures could be fun, exciting and sexy, especially with someone you loved more than life.

“Please, please, please,” Emma whined, bucking her hips against him. _“Please!”_

“Let go, my love,” he coaxed, pumping his fingers faster. His pirate rings were tucked in his pocket; they weren’t exactly appropriate for their disguise. “Let go.”

Emma shattered instantly, stars popping behind her tightly shut eyes. Killian’s fingers were pressed deeply inside her, stroking her g spot, making her quiver down to her very core. All sense of time and place left her; all that mattered was the incredible way he made her feel.

“My lovely Swan.” Killian kissed her thigh tenderly, drawing out the last of her pleasure.

She moaned softly, words beyond her. She felt the bed dip beside her, her husband’s warm body crowding hers. Wet fingers touched her lips; Emma instinctively opened her mouth, eager to taste herself on his skin. She kept her eyes closed, enjoying the sensual decadence he gave her. Sex had been an itch to be scratched when she was alone, but now it was like oxygen she needed to breathe. She felt everything, love, desire, yearning, satisfaction, all due to the man beside her. He helped her blossom into her full self, and she loved him for it.

Killian groaned, his pants painfully tight as he watched her lick and suck at his fingers. He needed to be inside her, to feel her skin against his, but he was enjoying this too. His Swan just basking in her sensuality like the goddess she was.

_Knock, knock, knock._

“Bloody hell,” Killian growled. “Go away!”

“Killian!” Emma hissed, her body flushing with embarrassment. “We’re guests!”

“Aye, and I want some time to fuck my wife properly.”

“Jesus Christ,” she swore, pushing herself up. She must look a mess, but someone needed to answer the door. She took several deep breaths, trying to get her body under control. She absently brushed some hair back, hoping she didn’t have that freshly fucked look. That wouldn’t do, especially did she didn’t actually get to fuck her husband!

The young woman on the other side of the door appeared none the wiser, her eyes lower respectfully. That only made Emma even more embarrassed; Killian’s voice carried quite well. Surely this woman heard something? But all she did was hold out her laden arms. “Apologies, Mrs. Jones. The Queen sent me.”

“It’s fine,” Emma replied, really hoping her previous activities weren’t that obvious.

“I was asked to bring you some choices for dinner?”

Emma looked down at the gowns in her arms. “That’s a lot of silk, Miss…”

“Skerrett, ma’am.” The woman bobbed a curtsey. “Queen’s personal dresser.”

Oh wow. Emma hadn’t expected Victoria to part with her own dresser for her! That was too much. “Well, thanks, Miss Skerrett. If you leave them with me, I can manage.”

Skerrett looked skeptical. “Uh, the Queen asked me to see to you personally.”

“I’m sure she needs you more. I really can manage.” Killian would help her, she was sure. He knew far more than she liked to admit about this sort of thing. “Please thank Her Majesty for me though. This is very thoughtful of her.”

“I will do that, ma’am. Thank you.” She handed Emma the collection of gowns and bowed once more quickly. Then she was gone.

Emma shut the door with a kick of her foot; her arms were heavy with silk and lace and petticoats. Killian leaned casually in the doorway to the bedroom, waistcoat open, a knowing smirk on his lips. “Shut. Up.”

His grin widened. “I don’t recall saying anything, love.”

“You’re _thinking._ That’s worse.”

“Am I not allowed to ogle my wife?”

She scowled at him. “You’re awfully happy for someone who got cockblocked by some dresses.”

Killian pushed off from the wall and sauntered over to her. “Not ideal, I’ll grant you,” he admitted. In fact, it was very frustrating, but he couldn’t resist teasing her. It was all part of trying to make this more fun for her. “But it will only make the next time sweeter.”

Emma rolled her eyes but conceded his point. She chucked the dresses into a nearby chair. “Care to help me make myself presentable?”

He smirked again. “You’d trust me with that?”

“We’re having dinner with royalty,” she reminded him. “You’re better at this sort of thing.”

“Says the woman who was born a princess.”

“You know what I mean.”

He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “You’re adorable, Swan.”

Emma flushed, then cupped his jaw, drawing his lips to hers. The kiss started soft and sweet, but it didn’t take long to build into something more passionate. Killian held her firmly, his body drawn to hers. He would never have enough of her.

“Killian,” she breathed. “Dinner.”

“Fucking hell,” he growled, letting her feel his arousal. “I want you so much, Swan.”

“After,” she promised. “I’ll let you have your wicked way with me.”

He dragged another kiss from her lips, a promise. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, wife.”

“Have I ever?” she shot back. “Anything you want. I’m all yours.”

“I love you.”

She smiled. “Love you too, sailor.” Emma forced herself to step back; if she stayed in his arms, they’d wind up right back in bed. If they missed dinner, it would raise suspicions. That was something they couldn’t afford. “So which one should I pick?”

Killian beamed, all too willing to give his opinion. Emma would look every inch the princess, if he had anything to say about it.

* * *

 

“Any particular style tonight, Ma’am?”

Victoria stared into the mirror, considering her reflection. Could anyone see the difference in her? She could see it, plain as day. _Hope_ shined in her eyes, coupled with a sense of peace that she hadn’t known for a long time. She supposed that she should have been more troubled by the attack on her person, but she wasn’t. She’d told Lord M the truth. She hadn’t been afraid at the time. It was only after, when she realized how close she had come to leaving him alone, that fear settled in her heart.

Now she felt like they had an understanding. They loved each other. Impossibly, improbably, but they did. That simple truth gave her strength, gave her hope. She was a woman in love and she was certain it was written all over her face.

So, what if it was? She wasn’t ashamed of how she felt. Lord M was her greatest friend, her greatest comfort since becoming Queen. More importantly, he saw the woman behind the crown. Her mother, Sir John, even Uncle Leopold…they saw her as a vessel for their own power. They cared far more about that than her happiness.

She refused to play by their rules.

“Something elegant,” she murmured softly. “Something pretty.”

“Is this a special occasion, Ma’am?”

Victoria glanced at her dresser in the mirror. “I am entertaining some special guests as you know.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Did you deliver the gowns?”

“Yes, Ma’am. Mrs. Jones wished me to thank you for your thoughtfulness.”

“I like them,” Victoria replied, tilting her head. “I think they’re fascinating.”

“And very much in love, if you don’t mind my saying.”

The Queen smiled. “They are. It’s…enlightening.”

Skerrett chose not to respond. It was never wise to comment on things she had no business even knowing. She was the Queen’s dresser, nothing more. However, she was not blind. The Queen’s request for a pretty hairstyle had little to do with her new friends and everything to do with Lord Melbourne. It was a comfort, seeing the Queen so happy.

An hour later, Victoria felt ready to face her guests. The captain and his wife were not her only dining companions this evening. Her uncle was visiting, much to her chagrin. She loved Uncle Leopold as family, but she was not naïve to his intentions. He and his mother seemed to make it their mission to sing her cousin Albert’s praises. Victoria could hardly escape a conversation with either one without some mention of Albert. It was infuriating.

She’d met Albert once when they were younger, and she did not like him. He didn’t dance, he hardly ever laughed; he was far too serious. She could not imagine him as a congenial companion. No matter how much she protested that she did not wish to see him—let alone marry him—no one headed her. Uncle Leopold seemed quite determined. They were locked in a battle of wills and Victoria intended to win.

“Her Majesty the Queen.”

The gathered court bowed and curtseyed respectfully as she entered the hall. She looked around the room, relaxing when she spotted Lord M off to her left. He gave her a small smile, his eyes subtly traveling the length of her person. She felt a flush stain her cheeks, pleased that he seemed to like what he saw.

“Niece.”

Victoria came crashing back to earth. “Uncle Leopold.”

“It’s truly brave of you to entertain after sustaining such a fright. Are you certain you’re up to it?”

Victoria squared her shoulders and straightened her spine, once again silently cursing her short stature. “I am quite well, Uncle.” She spotted her saviors down the hall. “Come, let me introduce you to my new friends.” She slipped her arm into her uncle’s, aware of Lord M’s gaze on them. She couldn’t look at him, lest she give them away. They weren’t ready for a scene with her uncle just yet. Besides, she selfishly wished to keep their new understanding to herself for the moment. She liked having something that was solely hers.

Emma spotted the Queen approaching with an older man she didn’t recognize. But Killian did. “That’s her uncle Leopold,” he whispered. “King of the Belgians.”

“How do you know that?”

“Those books do have pictures, Swan,” he teased. “It’s not like the Sheriff’s office is bustling with activity.”

She smiled to herself; he wasn’t wrong. Ever since the final battle, things around Storybrooke had calmed down considerably. They spent most of their time dealing with small town crime and drunken brawls at the Rabbit Hole. It was refreshing after years of mayhem and near death experiences. “Are you saying our lives are boring?”

“Certainly not.” He squeezed her waist. “Nothing is ever boring with you, love.”

“Good save,” she whispered back.

He was still smiling when Victoria and Leopold appeared. He bowed respectfully, while Emma executed a curtsey. He was so proud of her. She might not think of herself as a princess, but it was her birthright. She was a natural. “Your Majesty.”

Victoria smiled. “Captain Jones, Mrs. Jones, might I present my uncle Leopold? Uncle, this is Captain Killian Jones and his wife, Emma. They saved my life.”

Leopold surprised everyone by bowing before them. “I thank you for your brave actions, Captain. On behalf of my family and England, of course.”

“I didn’t do it for thanks,” Killian replied, a blush creeping up on his cheeks. Emma knew how much he hated being thanked for things. He played the arrogant pirate so well; it was easy to forget the man within. “And Emma did far more than I. Didn’t you, love?”

Emma shrugged. “We just wanted to help,” she said simply. She wasn’t crazy about the way Leopold was looking down his nose at them, despite his thanks.

“How long will you be staying with my niece?”

Victoria cut in, all too aware of her uncle’s schemes. “For as long as I wish it, Uncle,” she replied smoothly. “I believe we shall be great friends.”

Emma smiled at the spunky Queen. “I would like that, Your Majesty.”

“Majesty,” Lehzen called. “Dinner is ready.”

The meal went much better than Emma expected. She wasn’t used to the formality or having her food taken away when the Queen was finished, but at least she didn’t make a complete fool of herself. “How do you know all this?” she whispered to her husband as the third course was taken away. The fine china and real silver cutlery were kinda freaking her out.

“Liam,” he replied, just as quietly. Emma caught the wistful look in his eyes; she squeezed his hand under the table. While they knew Liam was at peace, they both missed him. Emma wished she could have gotten to know him better. “He taught me everything.”

“He did a good job.”

“Where is it you hail from, Captain Jones?” Leopold asked. “Your accent sounds English.”

Emma’s eyes widened, panic settling in her belly. “Southampton,” her husband replied smoothly. “My brother and I were sailors from a young age.”

“Isn’t that barbaric?” Harriet, Duchess of Sutherland, asked. Emma knew her to be one of the Queen’s ladies in waiting. Dark haired, pretty, but Emma thought she was a bit of a gossip. She tried not to judge, since she’d only just met the woman. Her husband was proof positive that first impressions were not always correct.

Emma and Killian shared a look. He wasn’t about to confide his whole story to these people, but he could play along. “Sailing was in our blood, Your Grace. There was no other choice.”

“Was?”

“My brother passed away some years ago.”

“Oh. I am sorry, Captain. I’m sure he’d very proud of you.”

“I like to think he is.” He would never forget the look on his brother’s face when they said goodbye in the Underworld. Killian missed Liam every day, but he had faith they’d be reunited one day. Not before he lived a long happy life with the woman he loved.

Emma smiled. “Liam was like a father to Killian,” she said, slipping her fingers into his. “Something I’m sure Killian will be to our children too.”

“No children yet?”

“Not yet. But I think it’ll be soon.”

“We’re enjoying our time being married, aren’t we, Swan?”

Emma nodded. “Definitely.”

“Would you say marriage is a desirable state?” Leopold asked.

“Yeah, provided you’re married to the right person. Someone who believes in you and helps you be your best self. Don’t you agree, Your Majesty?”

All heads turned toward Victoria, this young woman everyone knew had to marry one day soon. The Queen nodded. “Well said, Mrs. Jones. Compatibility is very important to one’s future happiness.”

Emma didn’t miss the way the Queen’s gaze flickered to the man across the table from her. Melbourne wasn’t as obvious in his interest, but Emma knew better. Their moment in the Queen’s sitting room was pretty clear. They had feelings for each other, big ones. Emma also had a feeling that very few people at this table gave a damn about Victoria’s happiness.

There was one question she couldn’t shake though. If Victoria and Melbourne felt so strongly about each other, why weren’t they the celebrated romance of the Queen’s life? How did she wind up with Albert?

After dinner, the men departed for a drink while the ladies returned to the Queen’s sitting room. Emma was surprised when Victoria asked Emma to sit with her. “Did you enjoy dinner, Mrs. Jones?”

Emma nodded. “I did. Thank you for inviting us into your home. And please, call me Emma. No one calls me Mrs. Jones.” Well, Killian did when he was being especially cheeky. But she secretly loved it.

“Emma. I believe your husband has another name for you?”

Emma blushed. “Swan. It’s been a nickname since we met.”

“He loves you very much.”

“It took me a while to accept that, but yeah, he does.”

Victoria looked a bit nervous, her hands folded in her lap. “Would you mind if I asked you a personal question?”

Emma tilted her head, curious. “Sure.”

“Was your marriage arranged?”

“No. Definitely not.”

“Oh. Then might I ask how you knew?”

“Knew what?”

“That he was the one that could make you happy.”

 _Oh._ Emma thought for a few moments. How could she answer that? She and Killian had a complicated courtship; he was a villain when they first met. Of course, she couldn’t tell Victoria any of that. She’d never believe her, for one. Sometimes it sounded insane, even to Emma. And she’d lived it. “It just sort of…crept up on me,” she said honestly. “I realized one day that I couldn’t lose him. And it scared me.”

“Scared you?”

Emma nodded. It was easy to talk about now. “Yeah. I’ve never been good at letting people in. But Killian…he was persistent without being pushy, you know? He was exactly what I needed without asking for anything in return.”

Victoria bit her lip. It sounded so much like her own Lord M. He loved her selflessly, believing they could never be. But now that they’d admitted their feelings to each other, perhaps that would change. She wanted that. She wanted _him._ For Lord M provided the same comfort to her that Captain Jones did for Emma. He only ever wanted her to be her best self, both as a woman and as a queen. How could she lose that?

Before she could ask any more questions, the men returned. Killian greeted his wife with a kiss, earning them a surprised buzz from the assembled guests. He didn’t care what any of them thought. He loved his wife and wanted everyone to know it.

Melbourne’s gaze alighted on the Queen. She looked thoughtful, smiling a little as she observed her new friends. Melbourne still wasn’t quite sure what to make of them, but he found himself enjoying the Captain’s company. He was surprisingly well educated; they’d had a spirited discussion on the merits of Shakespeare’s tragedies. It had been some time since he’d enjoyed such intellectually stimulating conversation. Since becoming Prime Minister, most of his discourse revolved around politics. It became tedious after a while, if he was being honest with himself. The exception, naturally, were his long talks with the Queen. Victoria had a highly inquisitive mind, despite her lack of education. Part of him wanted to strangle Sir John for depriving her of a first rate education.

Selfish bastard.

Fortunately, Sir John Conroy was nowhere to be found. The Duchess sat quietly in a corner, enjoying a lively discussion with her brother, the King of the Belgians. Melbourne did not like Victoria’s uncle; all the man cared about was advancing the Coburgs. Victoria herself was half Coburg, but she was truly English in every way that mattered.

Not that any of that mattered to Melbourne. He was enthralled by the woman, by the tiny firecracker who declared that if she “required assistance, she would ask for it.” From the moment he met her, he was lost and found at the same time. She gave him a reason to go on, when he believed all light and hope had gone from the world. He’d been going through the motions of being Prime Minster before her accession; now it brought him _her._

It was scandalous, these feelings he harbored. But he couldn’t help it. Worse, he didn’t want to stop loving her. Even if he ultimately lost her to a younger, fitter man, he couldn’t regret loving her. Victoria was a woman who deserved all the love in the world.

Victoria stood, causing a ripple effect throughout the room. Boldly, she marched over to him. “Lord M, would you like to join me in a game of cards?”

Melbourne bowed respectfully. “It would be my honor, Ma’am.”

“Captain Jones, Emma. Would you like to join us?”

“Um, sure,” Emma replied. She looked at Killian, who shrugged.

A servant brought out the card table and cards; Melbourne and Killian held out chairs for the ladies. “You’re familiar with whist?” Victoria asked.

Emma shook her head. “Not really?”

“Not to worry, love, for _I_ am,” Killian replied, grinning. “Just follow my lead.”

Emma rolled her eyes. She listened carefully as Victoria explained the rules; it didn’t sound too hard. She liked card games.

“Would you like to cut the deck?” Melbourne asked Killian.

Emma panicked for a moment, but once more, her fears were unnecessary. They’d not told anyone about Killian’s disability; so far, it appeared that no one had noticed it. But cutting a deck of cards? She watched in fascination as he picked up the deck and cut it, his thumb and fingers well practiced. To show off even more, he did it twice more. Emma couldn’t stop staring, oddly turned on by the sheer dexterity and strength of his hand.

She was in trouble.

Even worse, Killian spotted her watching him and had the audacity to wink at her! Oh, she was going to _kill_ him! They were _stuck_ in some alternate reality and he seemed to prefer flirting with her to solving the problem! It was infuriating! They were going to have a serious discussion about that. Later.

Melbourne accepted the deck back from Captain Jones, dealing out the cards quickly. He could feel the gaze of the other guests on them, especially the Duchess and Leopold. He should have been more concerned about it, especially given the line he and Victoria had already crossed, but it was difficult to worry about _Leopold_ when Victoria looked at him like he hung the moon. Not even Caro had looked at him like that. She’d saved that kind of passion for Byron.

The game was surprisingly fun. They were divided into teams, she and Killian against the Queen and her Prime Minster. She and Killian lost the first three rounds, not that she was shocked by that. But as she got the hang of it, things became more competitive. Partners weren’t supposed to look at each other, but both couples failed miserably. This was the most fun Victoria had had in a long time. Spending time with Lord M was always her favorite, but this felt different. With Emma and Captain Jones, there was no history, no expectations. They could simply enjoy the game and just _be_.

Things came crashing back to earth when Leopold cleared his throat. He stood near the Queen’s piano. “Perhaps my niece would grace us with some music? You play so beautifully, Victoria.”

The Duchess nodded. “It has been too long since you played, Drina.”

Victoria fought for control. How dare they demand things of her in her own home? Then she had an idea. “I would love to, Mama.” Everyone stood as she crossed to the piano, not resuming their seats until she settled in front of the instrument. Victoria knew their game. They wanted her to play because _Albert_ played. It was only a matter of time until her uncle made some leading comment about her cousin. Victoria had made her wishes clear; she did not want her cousins to visit. She did not want to be forced into marriage.

If they insisted on trying to pull her strings, she would use every opportunity to rebel.

Melbourne hung back, trying to keep his mildly interested mask in place. He loved listening to her play, but they were being watched. Leopold’s benign smile belied his intentions. Almost everyone around them was aware of the so called elephant in the room. In a way, he envied the Captain and his wife; they were guests and he no idea of the machinations around them.

Imagine his shock when the distinct notes of Mozart filled the room.

Unbidden, his eyes alighted on Victoria. She played with confidence, feeling, her beautiful face a mask on concentration. When had she learned Mozart? She did not seem to favor it, to his knowledge at least. She preferred Chopin and Beethoven. Perfectly acceptable, but he’d always favored Mozart. His dear friend Emma Portman appeared at the Queen’s side, turning the pages for her. Emma caught his eye and smiled.

Melbourne could not have been more stunned. She’d learned that for _him._ It was the only explanation. The piece was not an easy one, Mozart never was. Indeed, he heard a few discordant notes, but it hardly mattered. To him, it was the most beautiful rendition he’d ever heard.

Emma nudged Killian, her eyes moving from the little Queen to the handsome man in the corner. She didn’t know anything about classical music, but Melbourne had the look of a man completely entranced. She watched as the couple’s eyes locked across the room, the love between them so clear.

Then she saw Leopold.

The man was furious. Livid. He hid it behind a fatherly mask, but Emma was very good at reading people. It reminded her of Rumplestiltskin, if she was being honest with herself. It was disturbing. The man obviously had a plan and it did not include Victoria being in love with her Prime Minister.

Applause was long and enthusiastic when Victoria finished. She smiled, quite pleased with herself. She’d been practicing the piece for a few weeks now, not expecting to have a chance to play it. She wanted to understand Lord M better, to see what he saw in the composer. The complexity of the composition spoke to her; she could see the man she adored reflected in the notes.

His pleased grin was the sunshine she craved.

Victoria rose, intending to return to her guests, but Leopold stepped in front of her. “That was wonderful, niece. Perhaps we could listen to another?”

“I am feeling quite tired, Uncle. I think I shall retire.” She brushed past him, wishing to wish her guests a good night. “Emma, Captain…I hope you will stay with us for a few more days?”

Emma glanced at Killian, who nodded encouragingly. They needed to stay with Victoria as long as possible, so they could figure out how to get home. “It would be our honor, Your Majesty.” She curtseyed for good measure.

“I am pleased to hear it. I shall see you tomorrow.”

Victoria barely acknowledged the bows and curtseys as she swept from the room. In truth, she wasn’t tired, not in the slightest. Her whole being seemed to hum, wheels turned in her head. She was furious with her family, but she knew better than to show it. Lord M had taught her much about patience and strategy; she would need it all if she was to emerge victorious in the battle to come.

The corridors were quiet, lit by moonlight. Victoria basked in the solitude; she was so rarely alone. She enjoyed her ladies, but there were times when she needed to think away from all the prying eyes. As Queen, she was a public figure; she accepted that. However, she would guard her privacy with everything she had.

She paused by Elizabeth’s portrait; it was one of her favorite spots in the palace. And not merely for sentimental value. The huge windows provided an excellent view of her capital. It was too dark to see much, but she liked to imagine her people out there, living their lives. She prayed for them to find the peace and happiness she craved in her own life.

“London is beautiful at night.”

Victoria smiled, Lord M’s rich voice vibrating within her. “Why is that, Lord M?”

“The lack of smoke,” he replied, closer now. “I confess I find it distasteful.”

“We cannot deny progress, Lord M.”

“Perhaps not, but we can pray that it is cleaner in the future.”

“Not every place can be Brocket Hall.” His small estate was surrounded by countryside; she wished she’d paid more attention to it when she visited. She’d been a tad preoccupied at the time. Then she’d been heartbroken.

“No, Ma’am, it cannot.” Victoria’s breathing hitched as gentle fingers brushed over her bare shoulders. Never had Lord M been so bold. It thrilled her. “You’re cold.”

“Actually, I find I am quite warm.” She reached up, covering his hand with her smaller one. “Lord M?”

He would not look at her. “We should not be here.” He should not be touching her. He didn’t miss the way Leopold talked down to her, the ugliness in the man. Ugliness that had been turned on him the moment she left. Melbourne did not fear for himself. He’d been subjected to worse in his life. His heart broke for Victoria. It seemed her family would not rest until they’d broken her spirit, the very thing Melbourne loved most about her.

He would guard her fire with everything he had, for as long as he could.

“I did not ask you to follow, Lord M.”

He chuckled. “And yet I am here.”

“Perhaps there’s a reason.”

“What reason would that be?”

“It’s where you are meant to be?” Gathering her courage, she turned to face him. Moonlight crossed her face, making her even more beautiful, almost ethereal. “By my side. Always.”

He smiled sadly. “If only that were true.”

“We can make it true.”

Against his better judgement, he stroked her cheek. Flawless. So soft. He would only ruin her. Yet he could not turn away. “No, Ma’am. We can’t.”

The sadness in his eyes made her own burn with tears. “Why will you not fight, Lord M?”

“Because it is not a fight we can win.”

“Do you think so little of me? Do you think me a little girl, like Uncle Leopold?”

Melbourne looked hurt. “You are far from a little girl, Ma’am.” Since their kiss, he could think if little else but the softness of her lips, her warm body against his. There were moments he thought it might drive him mad. She haunted his dreams, in ways that were not spoken of in polite society. “I am not good for you.”

“Isn’t that for me to decide? Am I not the Queen?”

“You deserve better.”

“I deserve someone who makes me happy. That is you.”

“Ma’am…”

Her face hardened. Why was he so infuriating? When they were in company, he could not take his eyes off her. Now that they were alone, he only spoke of how terrible it was for her to love him. Did their kiss mean nothing to him? Did he have no regard for her heart? Had he only been trying to placate her? He did nothing but confuse her! “I did not peg you for a coward, Lord M.”

He could not have been more stunned if she slapped him. Melbourne was known for his diplomacy, for biding his time. Did she not know how deeply he felt for her? How he would happily marry her if he did not believe it would destroy her? Before he could react, she was brushing past him, disappearing into the darkness.

His body vibrated with the need to go after her.

Before he could think, his feet were moving. Melbourne reached out into the dark, his strong fingers curling around her arm. Victoria made a strangled sound, stumbling a little as she was pressed against the wall. Her heart beat wildly in her chest, excitement made the hairs on her arms stand up. Before she could say a word, lips were on hers, insistent and demanding. She felt herself melting, her knees weakened. She reached out blindly, her small hands latching on to his arms. This was nothing like the kiss in the forest; this was electric, wild. She craved more.

“Victoria.” He sounded broken.

She hummed, hands tightening in his jacket. Instinctively, she wet her lips, enjoying the new taste. She heard a growl come from Lord M, then he was kissing her again, his tongue sweeping over the seam of her lips. She had no idea what to do; she drew in a breath, shocked to her core as her lover’s warm tongue slipped past. Victoria keened softly, her head spun.

He should not be doing this. He should not _here,_ with _her,_ tasting _her_ , inhaling _her._ He could not help himself. He was a drowning man and she was the air he needed to live. She was soft and plaint, melting against him. He held her up, drinking in her blossoming passion. How could she be anything else? Victoria was all fire and grace; passion lived in her very soul.

He could not let her go.

The kiss broke, Victoria panting hard, chest heaving. She could not see Lord M very well, but she felt him. He was hard and firm, his lips moved along her jaw as she caught her breath. She _ached_ , though she did not know how or why. She only knew that she needed more. Her whole body tingled in a way she did not recognize.

“Tell me to stop,” he pleaded, sounding just as stunned as she felt. “Please.”

“Never.” Surprised at her own daring, Victoria cupped his cheeks and drew him back to her. Their lips touched, softly at first, but the desperation they both felt quickly took over. This was a stolen moment; Victoria would freeze it if she could. Never had she been so happy.

Melbourne broke the kiss again, leaning his forehead against hers. How had things gone so far? What was he _doing?_ She was his Queen, his monarch. He was the ruddy Prime Minister! He could not touch her like this. She was trembling in his arms; so small and seemingly fragile. She was anything but fragile. She was strong and willful and beautiful, far too good for someone like him.

“William.”

God, she needed to stop saying his name. It sounded like heaven on her lips. He did not have the heart to ask her to stop. “Victoria.”

“I like the way you say my name.”

“It suits you. Victoria.”

“Kiss me again, William.”

“I should not.”

She smiled. “No, you shouldn’t.”

Oh, she would pay for her cheek! He pressed harder against her, his hands sliding around her tiny waist. Her lips tasted like home, all sweetness and sugar; she was intoxicating. Victoria gasped, feeling something long and hard press against her corseted stomach. There was too much clothing for her to discern exactly what it was; her hands moved to explore him. She was completely trapped between Lord M and the wall; there was nowhere else she wanted to be.

Muffled steps got their attention; Melbourne jumped back as if burned. Quickly, he dragged Victoria deeper into the shadows until the sound passed. They heard a distinctly feminine giggle, then it was gone.

“I wonder who that was?”

Melbourne breathed deeply, relief washing through him. This was dangerous, far too dangerous for her. Why could she not see that? What they were doing was insanely reckless! No matter how soft she felt, no matter how sweet her lips were…this needed to stop.

“It doesn’t matter. If we were discovered…”

“But we weren’t. You worry too much, Lord M.”

“And you, Ma’am, do not worry enough!” he snapped in a harsh whisper. “Your reputation is a precious thing. It is not to be squandered!”

“So I can marry _Albert?!_ ”

He took a deep breath. The idea of her marrying anyone sliced him in two, but she needed to see sense. “So you can marry _someone_ ,” he countered. “Someone _suitable_.” She’d been about to argue with him.

She argued anyway. “And I say it is my choice,” she shot back. “Does no one care about my happiness?”

“Ma’am, you do not understand…”

“What don’t I understand, Lord M? I am Queen. One of my duties is to provide for the succession. No one wants my uncle Cumberland to become King. I fail to see why _this_ duty should come at the detriment of all my other duties. I know what Mama and Uncle Leopold want. They want me stuck in a nursery while my _husband_ rules in my stead! A husband advised and controlled by them. I will not have it! I fought too hard to trade one cage for another!”

Melbourne was taken aback by her words. The passion she felt. The _fear_. She truly was afraid. Afraid that she would lose her precious independence. He knew what men like Robert Peel thought of the Queen, of women in general. The weaker sex. The more emotional sex. It was men’s God given right to rule and reign; a regnal queen was an aberration.

Looking down at Victoria, Melbourne wondered how anyone could be so foolish. Including God.

Victoria was not weak. She could not be to survive the hell that was Kensington. True, she was stubborn, even willful. She was young and still learning her craft. But she would be great. He could already see it in her eyes. Victoria would be one of the greatest monarchs England had ever known, standing right beside the likes of Elizabeth.

The irony of that was not lost on him.

How could he turn his back on her? How could he not love and support her with every fiber of his being? For some insane reason, she loved _him_. He was afraid he did not have the strength to continue to fight her.

“I feel sorry for the man who tries to place you in a cage.”

“Lord M…”

He placed a finger to her lips. “Not tonight, Victoria. One day soon, we’ll talk. I promise.”

“Talk about what?”

He smiled. “The war.” If he was going to go to war for her, then he needed to plan.

Victoria beamed. How could she have doubted him? It seemed she was not the only one who was stubborn. She hated the anguish this back and forth caused them, but she knew what she felt was worth fighting for. He was worth fighting for, regardless of what he thought of himself.

They parted reluctantly; Victoria slipped quietly to her apartment. She could taste Lord M on her lips the entire way; she felt him pressed against her as Skerrett undressed her and prepared her for bed. Victoria spoke not a word, fearful of giving herself away. Her moments with Lord M were precious, infinitely precious; she wanted to horde them like gold.

Until they could be together openly, it was all she had.

She would not let Uncle Leopold or anyone else dictate her future. Victoria was mistress of her fate, no one else. If there was a way, she would find it. She refused to accept anything else.

 

* * *

 

“Seriously, Killian?” Emma hissed as her pirate husband pressed her against the wall.

“What?” he chuckled, his lips caressing her tender throat. “We were dreadfully interrupted earlier, or don’t you remember?”

The memory of his talented mouth on her was hard to forget. Still, he didn’t seem to be taking their predicament seriously. “If I didn’t know better,” she gasped, gripping his arm tightly, “I’d think you thrived on trouble.”

“Who says I don’t?” He grinned, his darkened blue gaze traveling over her. “And I know you do, Swan.”

“I do not.”

“Yes, you do.” His hand slipped under her chin, forcing her to look at him. “You’re secretly _loving_ this.”

“Yeah, because I love being stuck in magical realms away from everyone I love.”

Killian sobered a little. “We _will_ get home, sweetheart. But we must be patient, yeah?”

“Patient, you?”

“I waited centuries to find you, Swan. I’d say I can be _very_ patient. You on the other hand…”

“What? I’m not patient?”

“You said it, not me, love.”

She swatted his shoulder. “You’re mean.”

“Perhaps we should put your patience to the test?”

“Killian…”

“You promised,” he replied, his fingers skimming the edge of her dress. His skin brushed ever so lightly against the swells of her breasts and her traitorous body responded to him. Sometimes she hated that she wanted him so much. “You said I could have my wicked way with you.”

“I was drunk?” She swallowed, his hand still caressing her.

“On me, perhaps,” he countered, smirking. He ducked his head, lips following his hand. Emma had to bite back a moan, all too aware of where they were. Anyone could happen by.

“Are you trying to get us kicked out of here?”

“No, I’m trying to seduce my wife.”

Emma lost the will to fight him. She needed a distraction from their current problem and _this_ time, she could allow her True Love to provide it. She cupped his cheeks and dragged his mouth back to hers, kissing him for all she was worth. “Get me out of this damn corset, Captain.”

“Gladly.” He grabbed her hand and marched them down the hall. Emma giggled, some of the tension she’d been carrying since they arrived falling off her shoulders. Killian was right. They would find a way home. Until then, they had each other.

They got turned around once; the palace had _so_ many rooms! Emma breathed a sigh of relief when they found their room at last; her whole body tingled in anticipation. Killian pounced the moment the door closed, pulling her into a heated kiss. “I waited all evening for you, Princess,” he growled.

“I’m not a princess here.”

“You’re a princess everywhere, Swan. My princess.” His hand skimmed down the laces at her back, curling the end around his finger and tugging it open. “Are you going to obey your Captain?”

Emma shivered, realizing what he was asking of her. They’d hadn’t played like this in quite some time; she missed it more than she would ever admit. Besides, she could always get him back. Right now, she craved the pirate. “Yes, Captain.”

“Good girl.” He rewarded her with a kiss to the backs of her knuckles, then brandished his fake hand. “If you would be so kind?”

She shivered, summoning her power. A wave of her hand and some white smoke turned the hand back into his silver hook. Killian latched it in the laces at her back, forcing her to turn. Emma’s breathing hitched as his lips touched the back of her neck, his hand and hook working open the laces of her gown. She held still as he shoved the now loose material over her shoulders and hips, then divested her of the cumbersome petticoats. She could feel his hot breath on her neck, his hand slid over her belly. He drew her back hard, letting her feel how badly he yearned for her. Emma whimpered, the thin material of her shift leaving little to the imagination.

“Patience, Princess.” He gave her a little push toward the bedroom. “Go.”

Part of her bristled at his command, but she did as he asked. When they got to the bedroom, he tied her hands to one of the bedposts with the sash from her gown, leaving her to wait. She heard him shuffling around, caught him stripping down to his shirt and trousers out of the corner of her eye. He rolled his sleeves up, exposing his forearms. Emma wet her lips as he clit throbbed; how did he do that? How did he make her _want_ like this?

Killian smiled to himself as she squirmed; he planned on taking his time with her. Emma needed this; they would never be able to get home if she was panicked and tense. He needed her calm and level headed, perhaps even enjoying herself. His Swan took far too much on her shoulders. It was his job to support her the best way he knew.

He reached out, caressing her clothed bum, inching closer to the corset. He loved how the garment contoured to her lithe form, but he knew it was uncomfortable. “Hold still.”

Emma sucked in a breath as she felt the telltale tugs; she could _breathe_ properly for the first time in hours. The corset fell to the floor, leaving the oversized shift to fall off her shoulders and gather around her elbows. “Now what should we do about this?” Killian chuckled, yanking roughly on the cotton.

Emma whined again; he was enjoying tormenting her. Already, she was too hot, too needy for his touch. Any touch. “Killian.”

A hard swat stung across her ass. Emma whined, heat gathering in her core. “Captain. Captain.”

“Good girl. But you’ve already been naughty tonight.”

“I have?”

“Oh aye. Talking back to the Captain is a dire offense.”

Emma wet her lips, her eyes falling shut as his hand cupped an aching breast. He was rough, rolling and pinching the hard nipple; she moaned loudly. His hook touched the skin of her back, cold on hot, making her shudder in pleasure. Killian caught the cotton on his hook and gave a great _yank_ ; it tore just enough to get it most of the way off her body. The ruin fabric hung from her bound arms; Emma gasped as he kicked her legs wider apart. “You’re going to count for me, Princess. Loud and clear. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Captain.”

She curled her fingers tighter around the post, trying to brace herself for the pain. This time there was no cloth to soften the blow. Skin cracked against skin, the pain sharp and exquisite. Emma cried out, gasping as the pain faded into sweet pleasure. It felt so good, she almost forgot to count. “One!”

Killian smirked, his cock throbbed at the sight of her pink flesh. He wasn’t gentle, each smack hard and firm, leaving prints on her skin. Her whimpered shouts were music to his ears. Six, seven, eight…Emma took each spank like she was born for it; wetness flooded her sex. She sobbed in pleasure, able to completely turn her mind off and simply _feel._ She settled into that blissful haze that only Killian could give her, pain and worry a distant memory. She felt amazing, like she was flying; her body ached for release.

“Twenty!”

Killian stopped, instantly dropping to his knees. He kissed her abused flesh, tenderly, sweetly, his hand and hook sliding up her trembling thighs. “My sweet Princess,” he murmured. “So beautiful.”

Emma whined, her bound arms the only thing holding her up. Killian blew cool air over her swollen exposed sex and she jerked. “Please, please, please,” she chanted. “Please!”

He wet his lips, inhaling her decadent scent. Arousal slid down her thighs; she was wet and swollen, begging for his cock. He couldn’t resist tasting her, lapping at her dripping sex. Emma’s knees buckled; he held her fast. “Soon, Princess. Soon.”

Emma nodded absently, sighing as her Captain tasted her. He moved the length of her slit, over and over and over, devouring her. She sank into that pleasant haze once more, his tongue heaven on her core. The pressure built slowly, her need to come ebbing and flowing like the tide. Killian parted her lower lips with his fingers, pushing three inside her easily. “So fucking wet for me, lass.”

Emma hummed, coming back to herself, her body moving on instinct, her hips trying to bounce on his fingers. It was nowhere near enough, but he loved to tease her. “More, Captain. More.”

“Greedy girl.” He took his hand away; Emma whined in complaint.

“No coming yet, Princess.” He stood and untied her hands; catching her as she swayed. He carried her to the bed, then wound the scarf back around her wrists. “I like you bound and begging for me.”

She threw him a scowl, but she knelt obediently. The very tops of her thighs stung from her spanking, but she paid it no mind. Indeed, it was difficult to focus on anything but the man in front of her. To her immense relief, he began to strip, his chest bared to her hungry gaze. She followed the happy trail down his belly with her eyes, licking her lips at the bulge in his trousers. He chuckled but didn’t hesitate to give her what she craved. As usual, he was commando, the trousers falling to his ankles. Killian kicked them off before joining her in the bed.

They faced each other, both on their knees. Killian drew her close, carefully unpinning her hair, letting it fall over her shoulders in waves. He admired her for a long moment before his mouth descended on hers. The kiss was wet, hungry, reflecting their mutual need. Emma boldly brought her hands to his cock, curling them around him as best she could and stroking. He groaned, rocking into her touch. “Hungry, lass?”

She nodded, her body humming with need. “Yes, Captain.”

His hand and hook roved over her body, caressing her breasts, her hips, her stinging ass. Emma hissed, a flash of lust seizing her. “Dirty girl.”

She leaned back on her haunches, giving him free reign over her body. “I thought you liked dirty girls, Captain.”

He chuckled, a warm rich sound that went straight to her clit. “You trying to prove something, Princess?” He didn’t give her time to reply; he simply cupped the back of her head and forced her toward the mattress. Emma caught on quickly, bracing her bound hands on the bed so she was eye level with his cock. She knew exactly what he wanted. Her tongue darted out to caress him, up and down, root to tip, relishing his loud moan. Killian gathered her long hair in his hands, so he could watch her. Those swollen pink lips wrapped around him, enveloping him in her heat. His princess knew what he liked, long hard sucks, that wicked tongue sliding over his flesh. His balls tightened with barely restrained need, the need to own, to claim, to mark her as his. He bucked into her mouth, his cock striking the back of her throat. “That’s it, love. Suck me, so good.”

Emma sucked in air through her nose, bobbing her head faster, more wetness flooding her sex. She loved snatching back just a sliver of control from her Captain. She worked him thoroughly, a lazy smile on her face as he pulled her away, his chest heaving. “Lay back. Now.”

She did so, realizing the tables had turned. He was now the one who was desperate and hungry for _her._ She raised her arms above her head without being told, spreading herself wide for him. Killian settled between her thighs, his straining cock rubbing her aching flesh. “Is this what you want?”

“It’s what we both want, Captain.”

“Is it?” He pressed his cock over her clit, rocking slightly, grinning as her eyes rolled back in her head. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

“Please, Captain,” she whined, squirming. “I need…” Her words got cut off by a loud groan as Killian _finally_ gave them what they both craved. He held her thighs down as he rocked into her, a deep moan of pleasure rumbling in his chest. She was perfect, hot and wet and tight, taking every inch of him beautifully. “Yes, _yes.”_

Killian bent over her, kissing her quiet, fucking her in a steady rhythm. Her ankles locked behind his back, keeping him inside her. “Mine,” he growled. “My princess.”

“Yours,” she breathed between kisses, her walls already fluttering. “Harder, Captain. Harder!”

He scooped her up, still impaled on his cock until she could settle in his lap. Emma buried her face in his neck as he rode her, skin smacking together, sweat sliding over her skin. Her elusive high tingled at the apex of her thighs, so, so close.

“Come, Princess,” he ordered desperately. “Come now.”

Emma exploded, hanging on to Killian for dear life as he fucked her thought it, pounding into her over and over and over until he followed her in bliss. Her name was a prayer on his lips, his arms her haven.

They sank to the mattress in a heap, hearts thumping hard, breathing coming in harsh pants. Killian untied her, so he could cradle her against his chest. Emma snuggled into him, not ready to come down from her high.

Killian’s lips skimmed her hair, his hand stroked her back. “Feel better?”

Emma sighed. “Yeah. Thank you.”

“Anything for you, darling.” He held her until she started to shiver, then reluctantly got up. He found a cloth to clean her up, then helped her climb under the covers. Emma stretched out like a cat, thoroughly sated. “I’m afraid we don’t have anything for this,” he apologized, touching the fading pink skin.

“It’s okay. I’ve had worse.”

“I hope you mean that in a good way.”

She found his eyes. “Yeah. You never hurt me, Killian.”

There were times he worried, still. He didn’t want to infect her with his darkness. Rather than argue with her, he climbed in beside her. “I meant what I said before, Swan. We’ll find a way home.”

“I believe you. Sorry for being so antsy.”

“You’re a mum, love. Of course, you’re antsy.”

“Do you think everyone’s okay?”

“Storybrooke’s been quiet; I’m sure they’re fine. Probably looking for us.”

“Do you think they’ll figure out what happened?”

“Henry might. But we can’t rely on them to save us. We must find our own way out.”

“I still think Victoria is the key.”

“As do I. Though how, I do not know.”

“The Prime Minister’s in love with her.”

Killian sighed. “I noticed that as well.”

“I wonder why she marries Albert if she’s so in love with Melbourne?”

“We don’t know that she will.”

“But Killian…”

“The rules we know do not apply here, Swan,” he reminded her. “Your magic working is proof of that. I suggest we get to know our host a bit better, so we can decide how to proceed.”

“You want me to become friends with the Queen of England?”

“You say that like it’s hard to believe.”

“I have no idea how to talk to someone like her!”

“You’ve been doing an admirable job so far. I know you don’t like to hear this, but you are royalty, just as much as her. It’ll be easier than you think.”

“Well, if I have to do that, you need to cozy up to Melbourne. It’s only fair.”

“I believe we both made a good start of that tonight, don’t you?”

She shrugged. “It was a little fun.”

He grinned. “That’s the spirit. Now we should probably get some sleep, yeah?”

She didn’t need to be told twice. She snuggled into her husband’s chest and allowed his heartbeat to lull her to sleep.

* * *

 

Why was he at the palace at such an ungodly hour? Peel followed the footman, who lead him into an unfamiliar room. Gently lit with candles; it appeared to be empty. Peel waited for long minutes, becoming increasingly annoyed. If this was another of Her Majesty’s games…he hated thinking ill of his sovereign lady, but sometimes she made him wonder. Like that ridiculous Bedchamber Crisis. He still couldn’t believe he’d been bested by an eighteen year old girl! It was humiliating.

He was about to leave when the door opened. Peel was shocked at who stepped through it. He bowed hastily. “Your Majesty.”

Leopold nodded at the leader of the Opposition. He’d lived in England long enough during his dear Charlotte’s time to have a grasp of the English Constitution. His niece would not like this meeting, but what Victoria did not know would not hurt her. He only had her best interests at heart. “Sir Robert, my apologies for summoning you so late.”

“I was not asleep,” Peel lied. “Is it the Queen well?”

Leopold’s face dropped into a mask of familial concern. “She claims she is but suffering such a fright…I fear for her.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“As a matter of fact, there is. I wish to know any information you can find about the couple who saved her, this Captain Jones and his wife. Does it not strike you as convenient that they happened to be in exactly the right place at exactly the right time?”

Peel had not thought of that, though it did strike him as odd. “Do you believe they mean Her Majesty ill?”

“My niece is so trusting, Sir Robert. I do not wish to see her disappointed.”

Peel nodded. “Of course, Your Majesty. I will put my best men on it.”

“Thank you, Sir Robert. The Duchess and I thank you.”

One way or another, Leopold would get his niece to see sense. She would marry Albert and his plans could finally begin to take shape.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more Vicbourne heavy on this one. I hope you like it!

Melbourne tucked more papers into his case; he was already late. For any other topic, he would have left the chaos for his secretary to sort out, but these papers were of a sensitive nature. Ever since he and Victoria had reached their…understanding? Is that what it was? He supposed—if pressed—he could truthfully say that there was no promise, no betrothal. She hadn’t asked him to marry her, not really. Yet Melbourne wasn’t a fool. That was what she ultimately wanted of him.

She just might be stubborn enough to get it.

To that end, he’d been researching. The Royal Marriages Act had flummoxed many a Hanover before her; indeed, it was the reason Victoria even existed. Her father, Edward, Duke of Kent, had been living quite happily with his mistress when his niece, Princess Charlotte, died in childbirth. The princess’ untimely death led to her uncles scrambling to find suitable brides to father legitimate heirs to the crown. Old King George was well into his madness by then, but for some reason his son, the Prince of Wales, never saw fit to see the Act modified or changed. Perhaps he’s just grown bitter by then. The Duke married a German princess and fathered a healthy heir where all his older brothers had failed.

It was a miracle she existed at all.

Yet for some reason he couldn’t fathom, she wanted _him_ by her side.

The whole thing was madness. He couldn’t believe he was seriously contemplating a way for _him_ , a lowly viscount with scandal as his middle name, to be married to the Queen. To father her children.

Melbourne paused, a pang of regret seizing him. It was terrible and exciting to even _imagine_ there might be a _chance_ to his being a father once more. His poor dear Augustus. His poor dear daughter. There was not a day that he did not think of them, but since Victoria, he found he wasn’t _quite_ so melancholy. His children were at peace, if he believed in such things. Victoria was vibrant and alive; she’d ensnared his soul quite easily.

Losing her would destroy was little was left of him.

The little self-preservation he still possessed tried to make him see sense. Leopold was scheming, Melbourne was sure. He mentioned his nephew Albert with practically every waking breath, regardless of how little Victoria seemed to be interested. The man was duplicitous enough to invite the cousins of his own volition, probably already had. The sensible part of Melbourne’s brain tried to warn him, tried to tell him that when she met this paragon, this Albert, that she would be lost to him. Victoria was so young, so vivacious. Surely, once paired with someone her own age, she would see that her feelings for him were merely an innocent crush.

A blow to his pride, surely, but what was good for England…

 _She is not so fickle as all that,_ Melbourne scolded himself. Youthful, sometimes a little headstrong, but not fickle. His Victoria was loyal to a fault. Look at how hard she fought to keep him as her Prime Minister! She’d made Robert Peel look like a fool. It was reckless and irresponsible, bordering on a constitutional crisis, but he couldn’t help but admire her fire and determination.

When Victoria wanted something, it wasn’t a good idea to be in her way.

What was he _doing?_ In love with a girl over half his age, one who inexplicably seemed to love him in return. Victoria was far too free with her heart, hardly knowing the power she had over him. Did she even know what love was? How could she, growing up with that monster Conroy? She’d told him a little about her life then: how she had to sleep in the same room as her mother, have someone hold her hand as she descended the stairs, how she was closely watched and kept from outsiders. It was a profoundly sad and depressing existence for someone as spirited as Victoria. God knew that governess of hers was no help in educating the young princess in the ways of romance.

Romance. At his age. If only his mother could see him now. Would she approve? Would she scheme and encourage him? Probably. That was simply her way. She certainly was no stranger to the circle of royalty.

A knock drew him from his musings. Robert Peel stood in the doorway. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Sir Robert?”

“I have an update on the investigation.”

Melbourne sobered. Victoria’s safety was an issue he took very seriously indeed. Someone tried to _kill_ her. Tried to snuff out her light. It was unthinkable. “Yes?”

“Well, he certainly doesn’t seem _sane_ ,” Peel reported. “They’ve interrogated him over a dozen times and he just speaks nonsense.”

“There has to be a reason. The man tried to kill her.”

“We may never know what his intention was. Captain Jones disarmed him before anything happened.”

“Thank god for that.”

Peel frowned, catching something in Melbourne’s eyes he didn’t like. The man was far too close to the Queen. “It is my men’s recommendation that the perpetrator be remanded to Bedlam, where he can do no more harm.”

“I will report this to Her Majesty. I’m sure it will be a great relief for her.”

“As it is for all of us. No one wants Cumberland.”

“Don’t say that too loud, Peel.”

“Her Majesty’s marriage would go far in alleviating some of that anxiety,” Peel pointed out. “She needs some one to steady her, to guide the ship of state.”

“I think she’s doing quite well, just as she is.”

“There has already been scandal attached to her name! That horrid Hastings affair…”

Melbourne bristled. Victoria was young, she’d made a mistake. That was hardly enough grounds to declare her unfit. “People have already forgotten about that,” Melbourne pointed out. “They always find fresher fish.”

“You would know that better than I. Do you know they call her Mrs. Melbourne?”

Melbourne didn’t lose his temper often and he wasn’t going to give in now, but he still placed his tightly clenched fist behind his back. “I am aware. It’s utterly ridiculous. The only person who governs Her Majesty is herself. I assure you, there have been many, _many_ times when she has ignored my advice.”

Peel appeared unmoved. “She must marry. And soon. The country cannot do with this petticoat government forever!”

“Is that you speaking or King Leopold?” Melbourne snapped his case shut and breezed past Peel without so much by your leave. No one knew better than Victoria her duty. She’d told him as much. Yet _none_ of these people seemed to care one iota for _her_. The woman, not the Queen. Melbourne wanted her to marry because he thought it would make her happy. She craved companionship, real affection. She was starving for it.

He would give her all the love in the world if she would have him.

Melbourne brushed past colleagues, shouts of his name. He summoned his carriage to take him to the palace. He was already very, very late.

 

* * *

 

“Where is Lord M?” Victoria complained. Again. She’d expected him over an hour ago, first to do the boxes, then she hoped they might go for a ride. It was October; there wouldn’t be many more good days for riding. The weather was already turning chilly.

“I’m sure he has important business at the House,” Emma Portman said, glancing up from her sewing.

“Then why hasn’t he sent word?” She could only imagine how petulant she must sound, but her mother had placed her in a foul temper with yet another talk about marriage. She was heartily sick of it.

“I’m not sure, Ma’am.”

Emma Swan watched the exchange from behind her book. As part of their “make friends with the Queen” plan, she was stuck spending the day with Victoria and her ladies. Victoria, Emma quite liked. But if this was how women of the past spent their time, it was no surprise that everyone in old photographs looked so _bored._ There were no official engagements today, so they were in the Queen’s sitting room, sewing, reading and gossiping.

She was so bored that she was actually starting to miss snow monsters and dragons.

What the hell was wrong with her?

“Emma,” Victoria said, seeking some distraction, “tell us how you came to be in London.”

Emma lowered her book, thinking quickly. Somehow, she didn’t think “magic portal” was going work. “We’re just passing through, really. I’ve always wanted to visit London and Killian likes to indulge me.” That part was true. Killian probably indulged her far too much. How often did they pour over maps on the _Jolly_ picturing themselves sailing off to far away places? Emma was quite attached to home, but it was fun to dream.

Painful corsets aside, this trip wasn’t _all_ bad.

“You two seem well suited,” Harriet said.

“We are. We’re both pretty stubborn,” Emma quipped.

“Why the Captain seems to be politeness itself!” Harriet looked scandalized.

“Oh, he’s charming alright. Doesn’t stop him from being a bed hog.” It wasn’t so obvious here with the truly enormous bed they’d been given, but back in Storybrooke…Emma privately thought he was making up for all those centuries huddled in the tiny bunk.

Victoria flushed, but was unsure why. “You and the Captain share a bed?”

Emma blinked. “Um, yeah.”

“Every night?”

Emma nodded, unsure where this was going. Just how innocent was the young Queen? Or was bedsharing not a thing here? Surely, some people must, otherwise why give them a guestroom with only one bed? She opened her mouth to say something, but a sharp knock interrupted her.

“The Prime Minister, Ma’am.”

Victoria’s eyes lit up. She stood, unconsciously smoothing down her skirts just before Lord Melbourne entered. Emma watched as the older man knelt at Victoria’s feet and kissed her hand. Did he linger just a beat too long? Emma wasn’t wise to the ways of courtship here—give her a darkened movie theater any day—so she couldn’t be certain. Where was Killian when she needed him?

“Your Majesty.”

“Lord M. You are late.”

“Please accept my apology, Ma’am. Sir Robert Peel was updating me on the investigation of your attack.”

Everyone’s ears pricked up, Emma’s especially. Had they simply been lucky? Had Killian’s knowledge of the past give them an advantage? Emma had been appalled when he told her how many times Victoria was shot at in her long life. What was it? Six? Seven? No, she was pretty sure it was eight. Seeing the tiny Queen in the flesh, Emma couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to harm her. The woman was genuinely kind and dutiful.

“And?” Victoria asked imperiously. Now that Lord M was in front of her, she rather enjoyed making him squirm. Just a little.

“Peel says the man only speaks nonsense. They are still not sure why he tried to attack you. Peel recommends packing him off to the asylum where he can do no more harm. Unless we can get some sense out of him, it would be useless to try him for treason. And heartless as well.”

Victoria flinched. She did not want to appear heartless. “Very well. See it done?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

She turned to Emma. “Emma, I was thinking. After Lord M and I conclude our business would you and Captain Jones like to join us for a ride?” Let Mama talk about her being alone with Lord M now!

“Uh…sure, I guess.”

Melbourne’s brow creased for a moment before he carefully schooled his features. He wasn’t quite fast enough for Emma Portman, who gave him a peculiar look. He was being ridiculous, Victoria did not belong to him. If she wished to ride with her new friends… “I should go back to the House, Ma’am…”

Victoria fixed him with her most regal stare. “Is there something _very_ pressing, Lord M?”

“Ah, no, not as such.”

“Then the House can spare you for an afternoon.”

“As you wish, Ma’am.”

Emma’s brows shot up. Holy _shit._ Did they tick all the boxes or what? She watched the Queen disappear with her Prime Minister; there was no mistaking the admiration and fondness in the younger woman’s eyes. She loved him. It was the same look Emma had seen on her mother’s face the last time she and Killian had gotten stuck in the past.

So how in the hell did this Albert guy fit in?

Thinking, she muttered a distracted goodbye to the other Emma and Harriet. She needed to find her husband.

 

* * *

 

Victoria read over the letter again, her brow creased in a frown. “Is the Tsar _thanking_ me for not wedding his son?” It was by far the strangest letter she’d ever received from another head of state.

“Perhaps not in so many words, Ma’am,” Melbourne said, hoping the twinge of jealousy in his gut didn’t show. He remembered vividly the night she’d danced with the Grand Duke, her Coronation Ball. They were a striking couple, until the Grand Duke became a little too forward. Melbourne had swooped in to dance with her instead, ostensibly to rescue her. But he knew the truth. The idea of her in another man’s arms made his blood boil. “I think you were friends by the end of the Grand Duke’s visit.”

Victoria laid the letter aside. “I did learn a great deal from him.”

Melbourne’s brow shot up in surprise. “Oh?”

Victoria fixed him with a knowing stare. She might have been slightly intoxicated that night, but she recalled dancing with her precious Lord M vividly. His arms around her haunted her dreams. “I discovered that men frequently can act like little boys. And I do no want a little boy.”

 _Oh._ Melbourne swallowed, her meaning clear. Her meaning had been clear since Brocket Hall, but he could never quite make himself believe it. The Grand Duke, after all, was only one young man. _And Cousin George,_ Melbourne reminded himself. He’d fancied marrying her too for a time. There was an endless stream of royal young men to turn the girl’s head, why did she persist with him?

“Ma’am…”

Victoria boldly laid her small soft hand over his. It was like a shock to his system, his entire being attuned to her. “One day, you will believe me,” she said simply. Then she gave him a fond smile and returned to the contents of her box.

Would she never stop surprising him? His heart wanted what she offered. Her love, her fidelity, her very person. It wanted her with a fierce ache that threatened to consume him. But his head couldn’t quite believe it. Not yet. Two passionate kisses indicated that the heart was winning, but the war wasn’t over yet.

The prospect of a ride made the time spent at her boxes pass quickly. Victoria insisted on being a hands on monarch, reading dispatches herself rather than rely solely on her ministers. Lord M always filled her in on details she didn’t understand, smoothing over the gaps in her education. Even if she didn’t love him, she would be eternally grateful for his guidance and patience.

“Did you really need to go back to the House?” she asked when they were finished.

“I may have been telling a small fib, Ma’am.”

She tilted her head. “Why?”

This was leading nowhere good. Still he could not lie. Not to her. “I cherish our time together, Ma’am.”

Victoria beamed, triumphant. “Why do you think I invited them? Nor Mama nor Uncle Leopold nor anyone else could have cause to complain about me riding with you if we have companions, Lord M!”

Suddenly, he felt very stupid indeed. “Very clever, Ma’am.”

“I’ve never seen two people more besotted than Emma and the Captain,” Victoria said, sounding a bit envious. “It’s beautiful.”

“They are very lucky to have found one another.”

“So you’ll come riding? No excuses?”

“None, Ma’am.” If he was going to hell, might as well do it properly.

An hour later the quartet met at the stables. Emma eyed her chosen mount warily. Killian picked it out; she was still unsure about this whole riding thing. Over the last few months, her husband had been teaching her to ride; it was fun. Mostly. With her parents owning their own farm, there was plenty of space to just wander. Emma still wasn’t sure if she could control an animal by herself though.

Killian squeezed her hand. “This is the most placid animal in the stable,” he said quietly. “You’ll be fine.”

“Suddenly, this seems like a very bad idea.”

He placed an apple he pilfered from the kitchens into her hand. Together, they offered it to the horse. A couple of careful sniffs and the beast was nibbling at it happily. “See, she likes you.”

“You’ll be by my side?”

“Always.” He kissed her temple tenderly and gave her waist a squeeze. “The Queen’s coming.”

They turned, Killian bowing while Emma curtsied. “Your Majesty, thank you for inviting us,” Emma said.

“A beautiful day like this should be spent outdoors. Don’t you agree, Lord M?”

The older man adjusted his top hat and nodded. “Indeed, Ma’am.”

“Please, feel free to explore the grounds,” Victoria said to her guests. “Buckingham is very beautiful this time of year.”

“Thank you, Majesty.”

Killian shared a look with Emma, who shrugged. He huffed and helped his wife onto her mount. She’d been unsure about learning at first, but Killian managed to convince her. She was a princess, after all. And she’d seemed to enjoy their ride together back in Camelot. It wasn’t quite like a duck to water, but he was proud of her for trying something new.

Once he was certain Emma was seated, he mounted his own horse. Victoria and Melbourne were already some length down the lane; Killian chuckled. “Are you getting the sense that we’re here solely as cover?”

Emma watched the Queen and her Prime Minister ride away, in their own world. “You’re probably right. But maybe that’s not a bad thing?”

“How so?”

“Well, it gives us some privacy too.”

He beamed. “I like the way you think, Swan.” He kicked the horse into an easy canter, pleased when Emma started to follow. She was much better at this than she gave herself credit for.

Once they were out of sight of the palace, Killian eased them to the right, just off the main lane. “Where are we going?”

“The Queen said to explore, so we’re going to explore.”

“If we get lost, it’s your fault.”

“Pirates don’t get lost, love.” He shot her a cheeky grin. “It’s an adventure!”

Emma rolled her eyes but followed him all the same. It was a nice fall day; not too cold. If they weren’t stuck in a magical recreation of Victorian London, she might have been able to enjoy it. Killian seemed to be having the time of his life. “Killian! Wait, slow down!”

He reigned up to wait for her. “Sorry, love. Something the matter?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, I’m trying to…have fun? Embrace the adventure? But all I can think about is our family back in Storybrooke, wondering what happened to us.”

“We’re doing the best we can, Swan. We’ll make it back.”

“I know, I’m just being impatient.”

“Think of it this way. It’ll be a hell of a story to tell our grandchildren.”

“Grandchildren.” She could hardly think about Henry leaving home and Killian was talking about grandchildren?

He saw her falling down the rabbit hole of doubt again. Killian quickly dismounted, then went to help Emma off her steed. “Hey, stay with me, Swan.”

She held onto his forearms. “I’m here.” She leaned against him. “I’ve always had trouble looking to the future, you know? I had to focus on the here and now.” Right now, she was away from home, in a strange place, and she missed her son. Thank god Killian was there with her.

“I understand perfectly.” For centuries, he expected his vendetta against the Crocodile to kill him. He could afford to be callous and cruel, because none of it mattered. Until he met Emma. She mattered. “Isn’t that what these are for?” He placed his right palm against her left, their wedding rings clinking together.

She smiled. “Yeah.”

“Believe me, Swan, I am very much enjoying living in the ‘here and now’ as you say. Our future is whatever we wish it to be.”

“You’re gonna be the cool grandpa,” she teased. “Your hair will match your hook!”

“And yours will be white as snow.”

She pretended to kick him. “Hey!”

“I’ll still be devilishly handsome though.”

She sighed. “Probably.” He’d be handsome well into old age; she was sure of it.

Killian tipped her chin up. “And you, my love, will be ravishing.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh please.”

“Would I lie about that, Swan?” He leaned in and brushed his lips over hers. She hummed appreciatively, letting her arms slide around his neck. She shivered as his lips moved, caressing her jaw, her throat. “Utterly gorgeous.”

She stroked his hair. “We’re gonna be happy for a long time, aren’t we?”

“That we are, my love. That we are.” He gave her one final peck, then took her hand. “Come, let’s enjoy the weather and see if we can concoct a way out of here.”

* * *

 

Victoria glanced behind her, secretly pleased to see that Emma and the Captain had gone their own way. “How is your ankle, Ma’am?”

“It’s quite well, Lord M. Thank you for asking.”

Melbourne nudged his horse a little closer to hers. There were things he wanted to say to her, but for once, he didn’t know if he could find his voice. They were treading such a forbidden line; they’d already strayed over it twice. He didn’t know how he would handle a third indiscretion.

Victoria sensed his trepidation, the conflict in him. It broke her heart. Her dear Lord M had been through so much; her knowledge of his past barely scratched the surface. She wanted to know everything. At least, she thought she did. Some of the whispers that she did know had honestly made her curious. Yet she loathed causing him any more pain.

She only wanted to make him happy.

“Ma’am.”

“Lord M.”

They spoke at precisely the same moment, causing them both to laugh. “We are a pair, aren’t we, Ma’am?”

“I’d say we are, Lord M.”

Melbourne looked ahead; the lane was clear. “Would you like to walk with me, Ma’am?”

Her heart began to beat faster, though she had no idea why. “I would love to.”

They dismounted, Melbourne helping her easily off her mount. Neither let go once Victoria’s feet were on the ground. She was lost in his eyes, bright green and filled with a yearning that called to her. She didn’t understand it, but she wanted to.

Melbourne finally remembered himself, letting her go, ostensibly to hobble the horses. Once he was sure their transportation wouldn’t be wandering off, he offered the Queen his arm. A bold move, but they were utterly alone out here. No servants, no pushy mother, no hovering uncle, no one. They could simply be Victoria and William.

Victoria happily wound her arm around his. She wondered if he would say something. She wondered if he would kiss her again. If she concentrated very hard, she could almost feel his mouth on hers, ravenous, igniting a fire in her belly. She desperately wanted to feel like that again.

After an eternity, he spoke. “Ma’am…”

She huffed, annoyed. “Do you only see me as a Queen, Lord M?”

How could she ask that? She was so much more than the Queen, especially to him. “Ma… _Victoria_.” Her bright blue eyes looked up at him expectantly. The simple use of her name completely transformed her already beautiful face. What would he give to share that with her always? Those eyes had him transfixed. Still, he managed to find his voice. “I fear honesty would only frighten you,” he admitted.

“I am not afraid. Not with you.”

“Perhaps you should be. The things I think about you are most improper.”

She silently ground her teeth, frustrated. Everyone around her still treated her like a child! Or like some stupid doll. She was a _woman_ , a woman in love, a woman who had yearning and desires she did not understand. The object of her affection was still trying to protect her! She was the Queen and did not require his protection! “Perhaps I do not wish to be _proper_ , Lord M!” She was so angry; she nearly stamped her foot in frustration. But that would be childish. Instead, she turned and started to march away from him.

Damn it all! Melbourne silently cursed himself as he started to go after her. She didn’t get far, his legs being so much longer than hers. She tried to go around him, but he gently placed his hands on her shoulders. “You are treading on dangerous ground, Victoria,” he warned. He secretly liked the way her eyes went liquid at his tone. The scoundrel in him purred with pleasure. “Be very sure about what you want.”

“I want you, Lord M. William.” She bit her lip, unsure. Would he laugh at her? “There are things that I feel that I…don’t understand. When you kiss me, I…ache. I ache for you.”

“Bloody hell.” It was a most uncouth thing for him to say, but he could not help it. She was so innocent, yet so passionate. She did not yet know just how powerful it made her. Nor the effect it had on him. “Does it frighten you?”

She nodded. “I do not want to disappoint you.”

“You could never be a disappointment, Victoria.” It felt more and more right to call her by her name. Carefully, he unpinned her riding hat and tossed it to her ground. His quickly followed suit. She stared up at him with wide luminous eyes. “I’m going to kiss you.”

Her eyes dropped his lips; her tongue darted out to wet hers in anticipation. “Yes, please.”

He cupped her cheeks to tip her head up. Their first kiss was a surprise, neither quite able to believe it was real. The second was filled with heat and passion, each longing for more. This kiss was somewhere in between, Melbourne coaxing her to open, to tangle her tongue with his. He held her like she was precious, like glass, as his silken kiss ignited the fire in her belly. Victoria clutched at him, holding on to his clothed biceps, trusting him to keep her upright.

She was trembling in his arms. Melbourne broke the kiss, his lips caressing her jaw as she panted for air. “I should not want you like this,” he murmured in her skin.

“Like what?”

“If I told you, you would be scandalized, Ma’am.”

She started to scold him, then she saw the twinkle in his green eyes. He was teasing her! “What if I commanded you to tell me?”

“You are my Queen,” he said simply. “I would have to obey.”

“Then I command you, Lord M. Tell me how you want me.”

He swallowed heavily before gently nudging her toward a tree. Victoria’s brow furrowed for a moment, then she realized he wanted her to sit. The ground was hard, but she was too curious to gainsay him. This was the closest he’d ever come to admitting just how much he longed for her. It made her heart sing!

“A moment, Ma’am.” She wanted to cry out, but her ever attentive Lord M moved briskly back to where they’d tethered the horses. He fetched a blanket from one of the saddlebags and brought it back to shake out. Now she could sit without ruining her dress.

He couldn’t believe he was doing this! She had him utterly under her spell. Victoria sat obediently, her eyes raised to his in expectation. He settled beside her, unable to resist kissing her again. She let out a little mewling sound and Melbourne bit back a groan. Oh, the things he would do to her if given the chance! “You are…intoxicating,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“Like champagne?” she asked, slightly breathless.

He chuckled. “A bit, yes.” Then his eyes grew serious. “If we were discovered here…”

She boldly cupped his handsome face. “I gave you a command,” she said simply. “And we are not leaving here until you have obeyed, William.”

Her use of his name would never fail to floor him. He liked her little nickname for him, he loved being _hers_ in that way. This extraordinary creature believed he was worth fighting for; how could he do any less for her? He shot her a smirk. “In that case, Ma’am, I suggest you lay back.”

“Why?”

“Do you trust me?” She nodded. Curious, she obeyed him. She stayed still as his large hand moved over the fabric of her riding habit, starting at her belly and slowly moving up her torso. She sucked in a breath as he plucked open the buttons, one by one, exposing her white shirt. Her heart thudded in her chest; she was excited and afraid all at the same time.

“Lord M?”

“Simply say the word, Victoria. And we stop.”

“No! No,” she said, trying to sound calm. “I want to know.”

He leaned down next to her ear. “You fill my head,” he murmured, soft and low. “Consume my thoughts. You make me feel alive, darling girl.”

She wet her lips, his hand warm even though her clothes. Like he was branding her as his. She wanted to be his, very badly. “How?”

“By simply being yourself. Your good heart, your fire, even your innocence…you are precious.”

“I am not too short? Too plain?”

“Whoever told you that you were plain?”

“Mama.”

Melbourne bit back something unkind. He would not disparage his Queen’s mother in front of her. “You are beautiful. You are every inch a Queen.”

She gasped as his hand grazed the curve of her breast. It was muted through the fabric, but no one had ever touched her there. No one had ever touched her like this. “Oh.”

He bent down, brushing his lips over her cheekbones, her nose, her close lids. If this was his only chance to love her, he would make it memorable. His hand grew bolder, molding to her flesh, feeling the nipple pebble through the fabric. “I dream of you,” he confessed. “I imagine you in my arms.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “In my bed.”

Victoria moaned, to her own shock. The ache between her legs was acute now, her lover’s voice and touch melting her from the inside out. He was barely touching her, but she craved him. She didn’t know what she needed, but she knew she did not want him to stop. “Please…”

His breeches were painful now; he could not recall when he needed a woman as badly as he needed Victoria in this moment. Still, she was not his to take. Yet he could not stop. Not until he made her feel good. “Hike up your skirt.”

Her eyes snapped open, an awed kind of fear in the brilliant blue depths. But she could be brave for him. She trusted him. Victoria reached down and began to pull at the material of her skirt, exposing her legs to the slightly chilled air. It felt heavenly on her overheated skin. Her lover’s hand moved, and she almost cried out. Then she felt his bare fingers on her flesh and she thought she might combust on the spot. He was inching toward her most private place, the place her Mama and Lehzen had warned her never to touch, and she swore her heart would beat right out of her chest. And yet, when she looked into his eyes, all she saw was love and devotion.

It was something out of one of his fantasies. Victoria laid out before him, pleading for his touch. How many nights had he woken in a cold sweat, his nightshirt a mess? He was far too old for this sort of thing, but he wanted her with the need of a man of twenty. She was stunning, exquisite, every bit as responsive as he’d imagined. She was hot, her legs falling open for him. Gently, he touched her through her drawers, cock twitching at her aroused moan. God, she was wet! He could feel it through the fabric. Carefully, he dipped his fingers inside the slit, finally touching her sex.

“Oh, _oh_ ,” Victoria whimpered, clutching at her skirt. She didn’t understand the pressure she felt, the _ache_ , but she needed more. “Oh, Lord M!”

“William,” he whispered in her ear. “When I touch you like this, it is William touching you, Victoria.”

She nodded hard. “Please, it feels…”

“Tell me,” he demanded. “Say it, Victoria.”

She could not control her tongue. “Hot,” she replied, her voice sounding not at all like hers. “Like I’m burning up. It aches so badly.”

“Tell me to stop, tell me not to touch you.”

“No! Don’t stop! Please!” If he stopped now, she would never forgive him!

He could not see due to her skirts, but he could feel. Her nub was swollen and hard; she bucked into his touch, desperate for some kind of relief. Her whole body shook; she felt like a kite on a string. She felt something long and firm push inside her, and she keened.

“Does that hurt?”

“No, it feels…wonderful.” It was the only word she knew that could describe what she felt.

Melbourne would surely flagellate himself for this later. Preferably with a tall bottle of Scotch. But right now, he was lost in her. In her pleasure. He moved his fingers steadily, the pad of his thumb continuing to circle her little nub. It didn’t take long for her wet walls to flutter around his fingers, her body preparing for the coming orgasm. “Let go, darling girl,” he whispered in her ear. “Let go for me.”

Victoria arched, her mouth open. No sound came out. She was beyond that now. All she could do was _feel._ She was floating, high, high above, euphoria running through her veins. There was not an inch of her that didn’t burn. She never wanted it to end.

Melbourne brought her down slowly, ever mindful of her innocence. His heart was already hurting, fearful that this would be their one and only chance to enjoy each other like this. A stolen moment, nothing more. He kissed her damp temple, so gentle. “Thank you, my love.” It was the first time he’d given his true feelings a voice.

Victoria thought she heard him say something, but she was still too high to understand. Her eyes were closed, some deep dark part of her terrified that this was simply another one of her dreams. But then again, Lord M never touched her like that in any dream she’d had before. She felt it, the moment he was gone. Still, she could not bring herself to open her eyes.

Melbourne stood on shaky legs, moving around to the other side of the tree. He did not want to frighten her or embarrass her, but he needed relief. He leaned against the tree and hastily undid his breeches. Fingers still wet from her, he moved at a quick rhythm, biting on his cheek to halt a moan. In another context, it would have been embarrassing, how quickly he spilled himself into the grass. All Melbourne felt was relief. “Victoria,” he whispered.

Victoria finally forced herself to open her eyes, disappointed to find herself alone. Had she truly dreamed it? No, her skirts were still askew. And she felt different. Like the last vestiges of her girlhood had burned away, leaving Victoria the woman behind. She sat up, rearranging her skirts and looking for her Lord M. He appeared, looking solemn and apologetic.

Victoria spoke first. “Don’t,” she ordered. “Don’t apologize, don’t scold me.”

Melbourne’s mouth twitched into a smile despite himself. “I would not dream of scolding you, Ma’am. Unless you asked nicely.”

Victoria opened her mouth to speak, then promptly shut it. The cheek! She couldn’t help but love it. She loved _him._ She allowed him to help her up, their hands folded together. “William?”

“Yes?”

“Do you…do you regret what just happened?”

His green eyes were so tender it made her heart squeeze painfully in her chest. “How could I regret so incredible a gift?”

She tilted her head, confused. “A gift?”

“You’ve never felt that before?” She shook her head. “Then I was your first. And that, darling girl, is a gift.”

“But not the greatest gift?”

Melbourne actually flushed. “Ah, no. That gift is typically granted to your husband.”

“I see. And if I wished to confer that gift on you…”

Melbourne shook his head. Victoria started to protest, but he pressed a finger to her lips. “You must be cautious, Ma’am. I know what you wish. Your feelings for me are already dangerous…”

“You are hardly dangerous, Lord M.”

“If you were to express a desire to marry me, Ma’am, you know as well as I the backlash you would face.”

“I could face all of it with you by my side.”

So brave, his Victoria. His heart yearned for her, yet he had to try. One last time. “They call you Mrs. Melbourne.”

She smiled. “I know. But it’s not right, is it? Your surname is Lamb.”

“This is hardly the time for jokes, Ma’am.”

“I will not be shamed for who I choose to love, Lord M.”

And there it was. He knew she loved him, but she’d never said it in so many words before. It was the most beautiful ache in his chest, the love he had for this woman, his Queen. “Patience,” he pleaded softly. “If you _truly_ wish it, then you must be patient. Timing will be everything. I will have to resign, of course.”

She looked sad. “I know. But not yet?” She was torn, desperate to have him as her own, yet afraid of losing his guidance and counsel.

“No, it is far too soon. But we must be able to tell the truth, Ma’am. There is no betrothal between us. As far as the world is concerned, you are still the most eligible match in Europe.”

“You make me sound like a prize.”

“To every prince in Europe, you are. You are the Queen of England.”

“But not to you?”

“To me, you are hope. You are my Victoria. Hope is the Devil and Salvation, all at once.”

“I don’t want to be the Devil. I only want to be yours.”

Very carefully, he leaned down and touched his lips to her forehead. Victoria let out a little sigh, his lips warm and soft. “Ask me when the time is right,” he murmured.

“When will that be?”

“You will know, Ma’am. You will know.”

* * *

 

“Well?”

Peel pulled out the sheaf of parchment the lead detective had given him. “My men couldn’t find any trace of a Killian Jones from Southamption, Your Majesty. Nor the brother. There’s no trace of them at any inn or tavern or anything until a few days ago. They were seen at a coffee shop not far from the Palace.”

“And you’re certain?” This was good. Leopold did not like the time his niece was spending with the interlopers. She did not need to be seen cavorting with commoners, not when Albert was already on his way. He needed her attention to be on the handsome prince he’d so graciously chosen for her.

“As certain as can be, Majesty. London is a huge thriving city. People come and go every day.”

“You found no connection between them and my niece’s attacker?”

“None. He’s from Lincolnshire, sir. We’re still not sure why he came to London or why he attacked the Queen.”

“Still, most suspicious. Thank you, Sir Robert.” Leopold held out his hand. Peel stared at him for a long moment, then placed the sheaf into the King’s hand. Was he doing the right thing? The couple who rescued the Queen seemed harmless enough, if odd. The wife, especially, had the most peculiar way about her. However, Peel did think is somewhat unseemly for them to be staying in the Palace. The Queen had thanked them; it was time to move on.

Peel bowed and left. Leopold scanned the documents, but he could not find anything untoward. It was like they were ghosts, appearing out of thin air. There was something off about them; he was sure of it. The sooner he got them away from Victoria, the better.

 

* * *

 

“Emma?”

Emma was surprised by the Queen’s forwardness. Then again, she’d noticed something off about Victoria ever since their ride. Emma and Killian returned to the Palace first, worn out from their exploring. The Queen had been right; the park was beautiful. Emma never considered herself an outdoorsy person, but Killian liked to prove her wrong. It was actually kind of romantic, wandering through the woods with her husband. No monsters, no drunken dwarves, no teenage son, no parents. They could simply be.

“Yes, Ma’am?”

Victoria sat beside her on the window seat. The men were still off doing whatever it was men did after dinner. This might be her only chance to get her questions answered. “Please. I would like you to call me Victoria.”

“Oh, I couldn’t…”

Victoria covered Emma’s hands with hers. “Please. You are not one of my ladies. You are my friend.”

“Okay. Victoria.”

Victoria glanced toward the door then back. “First, I’d like to apologize.”

“For what?”

“I’m afraid I took advantage of your presence this afternoon for our ride. It was most rude of me.”

Emma’s face softened. She was so young, this Queen. Emma couldn’t blame her one bit for wanting some time alone with the man she loved. “Believe me, Killian and I didn’t mind. Actually, it was kind of romantic. Back home…we don’t get as much time to ourselves as we would like.”

Victoria brightened a bit at that. “Then I am glad. But…”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Emma said firmly. “I understand.”

“I envy you,” Victoria confessed. Her thumb rubbed the back of her hand nervously. “You and the Captain are so much in love.”

“It hasn’t always been easy,” Emma said lightly. “But I learned a long time ago that love is worth it.” She thought her mother would be very proud for her for admitting that. Emma had come a long away in the last few years. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for Killian or her family.

Victoria looked hopeful. “Do you truly think so?”

“I know so. Killian and I…we had to fight. There were…circumstances that tried to separate us. But we always fought through them, fought for each other, even when we didn’t necessarily believe in ourselves.”

Relief washed through Victoria. If her friend could fight to be with the man she loved, then so could she. She was a soldier’s daughter after all. “Could I ask you something?”

“Uh, sure.”

Victoria glanced at some of the other ladies in the room. They were all older than her, all mature married women. She felt foolish, feeling like her lack of knowledge was written all over her face. She was sure Lehzen had only been trying to protect her, but she was a woman now and she did not wish to be ignorant. Emma was the only person she felt safe confiding in, because she had no ulterior motives. She could be honest, at least Victoria hoped so.

“You and the Captain share a bed? Every night?”

Emma was suddenly uncomfortable. Was the Queen of England about to ask what she _thought_ she was going to ask? “Yes.”

Victoria paused, but then determination shone in her blue eyes. “Does it hurt? The things men and women do in the marriage bed?”

 _Oh shit._ The Queen of England _was_ asking her about sex. What was she supposed to do now? Emma glanced toward the door; the men still hadn’t appeared. Crap.

“Please,” Victoria whispered softly. “No one will tell me the truth. Like I’m a _child_. It’s maddening.”

“Okay.” She took a deep breath, wondering how to explain. “My first time…it hurt.” She inadvertently shuddered, recalling all too vividly Neal’s clumsy hands in the back of the cramped Bug. “But it doesn’t have to, if you’re with someone who knows what they’re doing.”

“Oh.” That both thrilled her and made an unpleasant emotion churn in her belly. Surely, Lord M would care for her comfort, but… _you know he’s been no saint,_ she mentally scolded herself. _He loves_ _you_.

“Right. But after the first time…again, if you’re with someone who cares about you, it doesn’t hurt. It can feel amazing.”

“Like pins and needles under your skin? Like you’ll explode with happiness?”

 _Just what the hell happened in the park?_ Emma wondered. “Well, yeah.”

Victoria lowered her voice again, Emma had to lean in to hear. “Does it always produce children?”

Emma shook her head. “Not always.” She was speaking to a woman who—in the history she knew—would have nine children. She was so small, Emma didn’t see how that was possible. Did the nineteenth century not have birth control? Certainly not any she was used to, but surely something? She felt a strong urge to protect the other woman, having also given birth at a young age. Emma was older and wiser now; she had a husband she adored. She just wasn’t _quite_ ready to tackle motherhood again. But soon. “There are ways…”

But before Emma could say anything else the doors opened, and the men entered.

Killian ignored Leopold, brushing past him to get to his wife. Emma was once more with the Queen, but she looked relieved to see him. “Killian.”

“Hello, love.” He bent to kiss her briefly. “Miss me?”

She playfully swatted his chest. “You taste like whiskey.”

“That a complaint?”

“Nope.” She pulled him in for another kiss, then held his hand. “Good conversation?”

“Aye, Lord Melbourne and I had quite the discussion.”

Victoria smiled fondly at the man on the other side of the room. He wasn’t looking directly at her, but she could still feel his gaze. “Friendly, I trust?”

“Aye, Ma’am. We are becoming good friends.” Killian meant that. He genuinely liked the man; he was intelligent without being boorish and effortlessly charming. They spoke of Shakespeare and history, which was actually quite helpful. This wasn’t _exactly_ the history he knew, that much was clear. There were little things that were different and unless Killian was very much mistaken, they all led to the tiny Queen before him.

Victoria suddenly had a flash of inspiration. “Oh, we must have a dance! You dance, don’t you, Emma?”

“Not well,” she hedged.

“Rubbish,” Killian countered. “She’s a natural.”

“Killian,” Emma hissed under her breath. But Victoria was already up. Everyone stood abruptly, surprised at the Queen’s enthusiasm.

“Harriet, would you play for us?” Victoria said briskly.

“Of course, Ma’am.” Harriet moved over to the piano, taking her place at the instrument.

“Drina…”

“I wish to dance, Mama,” Victoria replied firmly. “Surely that is not a crime now?”

Melbourne watched her with a mixture of pride and trepidation. He thought he knew what she was about. Dinner had been torture, being so close to her, yet forced to pretend that he knew nothing of her. That he did not know what she felt like under his fingertips, the sounds she made as she climaxed. If anyone had caught them, he would already be in the Tower.

Perhaps he should be anyway.

Victoria started to make her way toward Lord M, but her uncle suddenly appeared before her. “Might I have the honor, niece?”

She fought for control, what she hoped was a pleasant smile appeared on her lips. “Of course, Uncle.”

Harriet played a waltz; Victoria knew the steps well. She was pleased to see Emma and the Captain dancing nearby; at least someone was enjoying themselves.

Leopold followed her eyes. “How much longer are you going to play out this farce, Victoria?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Uncle.” Suddenly, fear gripped her heart. Were her feelings for Lord M that clear? She tried to relax; she wasn’t afraid of her uncle. She wasn’t.

Leopold nodded toward her new friends. “The commoners, Victoria,” he said slowly, like he was scolding a naughty child. Victoria bristled. “You don’t know anything about them. What if they mean you ill?”

Victoria laughed. “Surely not, Uncle. Emma has become a very good friend to me. They saved my life!”

“But why?” he persisted. “They must want something from you.”

“Some people are simply kind. I realize that might be difficult for you to believe.”

“You are being far too trusting, Victoria. Your mother is worried about you. As am I. England needs…”

Victoria had had enough. She stepped away from her uncle, annoyed. “I do not need another lecture about what England needs, Uncle. I am well aware.” He opened his mouth to speak, but Victoria cut him off again. “If you speak to me of Albert again, I shall scream!” She was being dramatic, but she didn’t care. She was heartily sick of her uncle’s machinations.

“He’s on his way, Victoria. I have summoned him.”

She was aghast. “Against my express wishes! Uncle, you overstep!” The music had long since stopped; everyone was staring at her. Victoria held her head up, chin jutting out stubbornly. “I will not have it; I will not have Albert. I will not have marriage forced on me. I am Queen of this country, King Leopold. Not you.”

Leopold would not back down. He would bring his stubborn niece to heel. He was the senior male of their family; it was his duty. “What you need, Victoria, is a firm hand. Someone to guide you.”

Melbourne had heard enough. “Her Majesty already has advisors, Your Majesty,” he said firmly. “As you are no longer a member of the Royal Family, I must insist…”

There was a commotion in the hall. Suddenly Penge came bursting into the room, half bent over and out of breath. “I tried to stop them, Ma’am,” he wheezed. “But they are coming!”

Victoria whirled around. “What is the meaning of this?”

A battalion of guards marched into the room, stopping short when they saw their Queen. The captain bowed hastily. “Your Majesty! Please forgive our intrusion.”

She was Queen; these were _her_ soldiers. She would not be cowed by them or their muskets. “Please explain why you have frightened my staff half to death, Captain.”

The young man looked around nervously. “We were given orders, Ma’am. We were sent to arrest a pair of traitors!”

That made no sense. “Orders? From whom? I gave no such orders! Lord M?”

“I know of no arrests, Ma’am,” he said, coming to stand at her side. She was secretly relieved but gave no sign. She could not show weakness here.

“I ask again, Captain. Who gave you these orders?”

“I…We thought it was you, Ma’am.”

“Why would I give orders for soldiers to invade my private space? Do you have these orders? Show me.”

The captain appeared truly fearful now. He reached into his jacket and produced a sheaf of paper. Melbourne accepted it and scanned the words. His eyes immediately dropped to the signature. He’d witnessed Victoria sign hundred of documents; this was _not_ her scrawl. “I believe someone has tried to forge your name, Majesty.”

“What?” She took the paper from him. Who would do that? She scanned the orders, her fury mounting. She rounded on her uncle. “King Leopold,” she said in a cold but steady voice. He was no longer her Uncle. Not now. “Could you please explain why Captain Jones and his wife appear in these forged orders?”

Emma was stunned. They’d come to arrest _them?_ Why? They hadn’t done anything! She knew this Leopold guy didn’t seem to be a fan, but arrest them? She felt Killian’s hand tighten in hers, his body moved slightly to place himself between her and the soldiers.

Leopold appeared unapologetic. “I asked Sir Robert Peel to investigate them,” he answered. He reached into his pocket and produced the fruits of Peel’s efforts. “They have no history. None! Killian Jones does not exist! There is no brother! For all we know, they set your attacker on you! And you have been foolish to invite them into the palace! They are nothing!”

“Uncle!” Victoria couldn’t have been more shocked. Her own uncle had betrayed her.

“Ask them!” he demanded. “Ask them!”

Victoria read the report. She read, but she could not believe. Emma was her friend. She couldn’t have been deceived in them, she simply couldn’t. It made no sense. She looked to Lord M, who appeared just as unsure as she. He’d gotten on well with Captain Jones; he seemed like a trustworthy fellow. Still, it did seem suspicious.

Finally, Victoria turned to Emma. “Is this true? Did you come here to harm me?”

Emma glanced at Killian, who squeezed her hand again and nodded encouragingly. She had to think quickly. The truth sounded too bizarre; it would only make things worse. But how could she explain? They weren’t from there. She was a wife and a mother and a sheriff. A daughter and a sister.

Wait. She was a daughter. Her mother was a princess. That made her one too. Wasn’t Killian always telling her that? _You’re as much royalty as she is._

 _Please let this work,_ Emma thought as she reached into the pocket she’d made in her gown. The heavy silk hid the swirl of white smoke; a thick parchment scroll appeared out of thin air. With a deep breath, she produced it. “We weren’t entirely truthful,” Emma replied at last. “But, as I’m sure you’ll see, we had a good reason.”

“See! I told you! Arrest them!” Leopold shouted.

“Do nothing!” Victoria ordered in her most regal voice. She accepted the scroll from Emma and broke the seal. She’d read enough state documents to know the real thing when she held it.

_To Her Majesty Queen Victoria of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, Greetings._

_I am writing to you on behalf of my daughter, Crown Princess Emma of Misthaven. For some time, she has expressed a wish to see the world beyond our tiny principality. With her safely married, I feel it is time for her to see the world she will navigate one day as my sucessor. Your achievements as Queen of your great country are something I hold up as an example. She will be travelling with her husband, Captain Killian Jones. I pray you may find it in your heart to grant them safe conduct through your dominions. My daughter has expressed a wish to travel incognito, partly because she does not wish to be fussed over and partly to evade our enemies. Please keep her safe._

_I pray this finds you well._

_Respectfully,_

_Queen Mary of Misthaven_

Victoria silently handed the scroll to Lord M and crossed the room to Emma and her husband. “Why didn’t you simply tell me?”

“I enjoyed our friendship, Ma’am,” Emma replied, not quite sure what the scroll said exactly. “And I was enjoying not being a Princess for a little while. An ordinary woman, you know?”

Victoria smiled. “I understand completely.”

“Now see here!” Leopold protested. “What is going on?”

“I’d watch your tone, Majesty,” Lord M said dryly. “You’re speaking to royalty.”

“What? That’s impossible.”

“See for yourself.” Melbourne handed the scroll to Leopold; it looked real enough to him. Moreover, Princess Emma held herself like royalty. He was in love with a Queen; he should know. He bowed in the princess’ direction. “Ma’am.”

Leopold would not be swayed. “I’ve never heard of this Misthaven.”

Killian stepped in. “Are you calling my wife a liar, Your Majesty?”

The combativeness in the man caused Leopold to step back. “I will not be spoken to like that!”

“Uncle, not even you know _all_ the little duchies and principalities in Germany,” Victoria scolded. “I presume that’s where you’re from?”

“Yeah,” Emma said, hoping she didn’t sound too quick to latch onto that explanation.

“You speak English very well.”

“I had an American governess.” God, she hoped no one asked her to speak in German! They’d be in the Tower for sure.

“And I had a German one,” Victoria said brightly. She knew there had to be an explanation. “As visiting royalty, you must stay as long as you like.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.”

“Victoria, please.”

But Leopold was having none of it. “But what about the attack?” he cried. “How did they know?”

“Yes, Drina,” the Duchess said hastily, moving up beside her brother. “Listen to you uncle.”

“We truly were just passing through,” Killian said. “We had heard that Her Majesty liked to drive through park; we hoped to catch a glimpse of her. I was protecting my wife as much as the Queen.”

“Very admirable, Captain,” Victoria said.

Suddenly, Emma remembered a scene from one of her favorite Disney movies. She wished she’d asked Aladdin if it really happened. “I like simply being Mrs. Jones,” she said to Victoria. “Even though it’s a little strange for royalty to wander through the streets dressed as a commoner. Don’t you think, Victoria?”

Victoria flushed, recalling her drive to Brocket Hall. “Not that strange, Emma. Please accept my deepest apologies for my uncle’s behavior.”

“Victoria!”

She rounded on her uncle. “You will leave the palace at once. I will not have disloyalty under my roof. You are banished from my sight. Get out!”

“Drina! Drina, please!” the Duchess cried. “He is your uncle! He is my brother!”

“You may join him if you wish, Mama.”

The Duchess shrank back; clearly her loyalty to her brother only went so far. Leopold refused to be cowed; he’d lost the battle, not the war. Albert would make her see sense. “Niece.”

“Captain,” Victoria said to the guard. “Escort the King of the Belgians from the premises.”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

Emma picked up the scroll and tucked it into her pocket. Killian gave her waist a gentle squeeze; he was so proud of her! Thinking on her feet like that; she was brilliant. He thanked every god he could think of that her magic worked in this place; they would have been in quite the fix without it. He kissed her temple. “Love you, Swan.”

“That was close.”

“Aye. But you were brilliant as usual.”

“I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You’ve bought us time, darling. Well done.”

Emma relaxed and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Thanks for having my back.”

“You’re my princess, love. It’s where I’m supposed to be.” He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. She melted against him, taking refuge in his touch. “Tired?”

“Not really.” All the excitement lingered under her skin; she was _wired._ “Take me to bed, husband,” she whispered in his ear.

“As you wish.” They could worry more about their next steps in the morning. For now, they were safe.

Victoria was disappointed to see her friends retire. She wished to speak to Emma more about her life. However, they had plenty of time for that now. Her new friend was royal! How marvelous! And married at that! In fact, Emma had been about to tell her something important before they were interrupted. She would simply have to ask her about it later.

“Are you well, Ma’am?”

Victoria could not stop her smile as her Lord M’s rich voice washed over her. “This was certainly an exciting evening, was it not, Lord M?”

“Very exciting, Ma’am.” He was ashamed to admit that he’d underestimated Leopold. For all the man’s schemes, he thought he at least respected Victoria as a fellow monarch. It seemed he was wrong. Surely, that had to give Victoria pause. “Ma’am, regarding your uncle…”

“I do not wish to speak of him,” she snapped. The depth of his betrayal stung. How could her own blood wish her ill? It made no sense. Did he truly want her to marry Albert that badly? Suddenly, she needed to get out of that room. “Walk with me, Lord M.”

“Ma’am…” Melbourne looked around; the Duchess was long gone, but her ladies lingered. Emma Portman gave him an encouraging half smile. Oh, if his old friend only knew…

“I find this room stifling.” She swept out, praying he would follow. Relief washed through her when she felt his gaze on her back. She moved through the corridors silently, Lord M her shadow. She had no real destination in mind, she simply walked.

Her wanderings brought her to the enormous ballroom. The doors were heavy, but she managed to push them open, allowing her to slip inside. Moonlight poured in through the windows, giving everything a silver glow. She heard the door close behind her but did not turn. She was rewarded for her patience when her beloved’s arms slipped around her waist.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

She let herself lean against his chest. “I am now.”

“Seriously, Victoria…”

“It hurts,” she said honestly. “I’m afraid I did not think my uncle capable of such deceit.”

“He did what he thought was best.”

“I am sick and tired of men deciding what is best for me!” She turned, tears in her eyes. “Even you, Lord M. You lied to me at Brocket Hall!”

He looked stricken. “I was a fool, Victoria. I still am a fool. Loving you as I do, how can I be anything else?”

“You love me?”

“You know I do.”

“Why did you push me away?”

“Because I believed—and part of me still does— that I will only bring you ruin. I am old, Victoria. A lowly viscount. You deserve a prince.”

“You are not old,” she snapped. “And twice the man Albert is!”

“How do you know? You’ve not seen him for a long time!”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, blinking back tears. “You promised.”

“He’s on his way,” Melbourne reminded her. “You will soon see for yourself.”

“But I do not wish to see! I wish to marry _you!”_

He stepped closer. “The palace has ears, Ma’am. Please, I beg you. Your marriage—regardless of bridegroom—is a delicate thing. There are many factors at play. My _only_ wish is your happiness. To obtain your heart’s desire, you must practice patience.” _Even if that desire does not include me_ , he thought. Albert in the flesh may turn out very differently from Albert in the abstract. Only time would tell.

“Kiss me,” she said stubbornly.

“Ma’am…”

She looked up at him with those liquid blue eyes, pleading. “William. Please.”

He could not resist her. Slowly, Melbourne bent and brushed his lips over hers. She made a little happy sound and he kissed her harder, pouring everything he felt for her into it. He would cherish every stolen moment with her, regardless of the cost to himself. She deserved the world, his Victoria.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay! We're coloring outside the lines historically speaking, so beware! I'm no fan of Albert, so that'll be reflected here. If you are, you might want to scroll on by. Enjoy!

She was pretty sure she was lost. Who needed to live in a house this big anyway? Endless corridors, unused rooms, cloth covered furniture, it all felt like a waste of time and money to Emma. Then again, she’d never had much growing up. Hell, she hadn’t even purchased her own home until she was thirty! Although, when she thought about it, she wasn’t entirely certain _purchased_ was the right word. Magically acquired? No one stopped her or questioned her when she declared the cute Victorian home Killian had chosen as hers.

That might have been due to the Dark Swan.

Whatever. It didn’t matter. The _point_ was that Emma was wandering a freaking palace in another world, another _time_ and she was _lost._ She was supposed to meet Victoria after her daily meeting with Lord Melbourne, but hell if she could remember which of the many, many rooms it was. Over the last couple of days, they’d taken to stealing off away from Victoria’s ladies for some…well, girl time, for lack of a better word. Emma sensed something fundamental had changed between the Queen and her Prime Minister, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. They’d crossed _some_ sort of line, but honestly, Emma didn’t want to pry too deeply.

The woman was the Queen of England, for crying out loud.

She couldn’t just say, “Um, Victoria, have you gotten freaky with the very sexy older gentleman who also happens to be your Prime Minister?” God, her cheeks were red just thinking about it. Not because Emma was a prude—she certainly was _not_ —nor because she thought there was anything wrong with being with someone older. Hell, her husband was centuries older than her! But Victoria was young, and Emma just didn’t know _how_ to build friendships with other women. Elsa was the only person she’d met who could get her from a magical perspective and she was off ruling Arendelle. Sure, Emma had her mom and Regina to a certain extent, but that was her _mom_ and her son’s _other_ mom. It was weird, even now.

Killian was the greatest friend she’d ever had.

All that to say, Emma felt _very_ out of her depth. Victoria was so overjoyed to have a friend who was also royalty that it was little bit overwhelming. Emma was forced to come up with some _very_ creative stories to tell about where she was from and how she’d grown up. Once their “secret” was out, she and Killian had worked long into the night to flesh it out into something plausible. She thought they’d done a good job; Henry would be proud. Unfortunately, none of it seemed to bring them any closer to finding a way home.

They’d been in this world for over a week and still had no idea how to fix it. Emma even tried using her magic to _force_ open a portal, but not even the Savior had that power. They seemed to be well and truly _stuck._

Emma stopped abruptly, forcing herself to try and get her bearings. Was this the east wing or the west wing? She hoped it was the west wing, because the east wing was where Victoria’s mother, the Duchess of Kent, lived. She didn’t seem to be Emma’s biggest fan at the moment, even though Leopold’s disgrace wasn’t Emma’s fault. If he hadn’t been so nosy or so determined to get Victoria to do his bidding, then none of this would have happened.

The sun was just peaking out of the top of the windows to her right; that meant she was in the west wing. Good. Now if she could just find the right room! This corridor looked vaguely familiar; there was a door opened ahead to her left. It might be the right place; she honestly had no idea. There was only one way to know. “Hello? Anyone there?”

No one answered. Wasn’t this place supposed to be crawling with servants? She hadn’t seen any in some time; that was odd. The Baroness especially liked to hover, ever overprotective of her charge. But Victoria was a grown woman. The door was about halfway open, but she saw a light flickering. Someone was in there. “Hello? Victoria, is that you?”

Just as her skirts cleared the door, it slammed shut! She opened her mouth to cry out, but she was cut off by two strong arms and a hand over her mouth. “Bloody hell, woman, I thought you’d never get here.”

She relaxed; it was just Killian. “You scared me half to death!”

He chuckled. “My apologies, love, but how else am I supposed to get some alone time with my wife?”

“How the hell did you know where I would be?”

“An educated guess. I’m actually very observant, particularly when my wife’s time is being monopolized.”

“We agreed that I was supposed to make friends!”

“Aye, well, you seem to have some free time now.” He loosened his hold, but he didn’t release her. Emma wanted to be annoyed, but she couldn’t muster the energy. As much as she liked Victoria as a person, it was exhausting to be around her. In fact, the last couple of nights she and Killian had been up late with Victoria and Melbourne, drinking and playing cards. The Queen of England could get quite tipsy when she indulged herself.

However, late nights meant that Emma always fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, secure in her husband’s arms.

Killian drew her flush against him with his false hand, dragging his nose along the curve of her neck. He couldn’t get enough of her scent. “I’ve missed you, love.”

She sighed, taking his free hand in hers and guiding it to her breast. His touch was rough, insistent, fighting against the layers of her gown. His lips touched her skin, sending tingles all over her body. What was it about him that made her feel like a horny teenager? “You’re making me late,” she reminded him, licking her lips. “I’m supposed to be meeting her right now.”

“She can wait a few minutes.” He resumed kissing her throat; his scruff burned over the tender flesh. “She’s probably still at her damn boxes.”

“Good.” Emma turned and hissed him hard, pouring all her frustration into it. A heated meeting of lips and tongues and clacking teeth had her wet and aching in moments, eager for her husband’s attentions. Still, she couldn’t help but tease him. “Always trying to cause trouble, aren’t you?”

He smirked and squeezed her breast. Emma bit back a moan. “Scoundrel, darling.”

She cocked a brow at him. “Just how much trouble are you planning on causing, Captain?”

“Far too much, Princess.” He grinned as his lips descended on hers and Emma simply surrendered. He was right; their roles here didn’t give them much time to be together. She knew they spent most of their days together in Storybrooke, but society had changed a _lot_ since Victoria’s time. Emma missed her husband, something she was going to rectify immediately.

A wave of her hand locked the door securely. Killian didn’t even wait until she was finished before he backed them into a piece of furniture. A desk, as it happened. His fingers plucked at the laces of her gown and Emma gasped. “Here?”

“Pirate, love.” He grinned at her and resumed his task. Emma rolled her eyes, but she made no move to stop him. Instead, she tugged forcefully on the knot of his cravat, unwinding the material from his throat. Killian was very sexy in the period clothes, but she missed the tease of his chest hair, the line of his throat. The place where neck met shoulder was secretly one of her favorites.

“Why does everyone here wear so many layers?” she complained. Killian had gotten the dress _loose_ , but she was still covered in about three more layers.

“No bloody idea,” he grunted, trying to work the material off her body.

“This is stupid.” She waved her hand again and suddenly _all_ their clothes were gone in swirling white smoke. They materialized over in one of the chairs, neatly folded.

“I love you,” Killian said in awe, jerking her back to him. She giggled as he picked her up and carried them to the velvet covered settee by the cold fireplace. Emma smirked knowingly as another wave of her hand lit the fire. Killian loved watching her use her magic, no matter if it was against a monster or something decidedly more _fun._ “Minx.”

“Hey, at least we won’t get cold.”

“Oh, I have every intention of keeping you warm, Princess.” He flipped them over, so Emma was on her back. She opened her legs automatically, moaning as his weight settled between them. They made out lazily, in much less of a hurry than they should have been. The moment was broken by his brace banging hard on the settee. “Fucking hell.”

“Here.” Emma reached up and with practiced fingers opened the buckles and leather that held the brace in place. It fell to the floor with a thump and she drew his stump to her lips. She kissed the scarred tissue lovingly, reminding him once again that she adored all of him.

Killian shivered, to this day moved by the way this woman loved him. Monsters, their ugly pasts, scars internal and external, nothing deterred her. All these years later and it still had the power to shake him to the core. He didn’t deserve any of this, but he was never going to let it go. Quickly, he ducked to plunder her mouth, groaning as she ground against him. _“Swan.”_

“I thought I married a pirate?”

“Oh, now you’ve done it.” He stood up, snatching at her hand. Emma moved to sit up, but Killian tugged her into a standing position. Forcefully, he turned her around, so she was facing away from him; her eyes widened as she spotted the mirror on the opposite wall. She watched as he drew her flush against him, holding her in place with his left arm. Meanwhile, his hand cupped a breast, kneading and fondling until her nipple was a stiff aching point. “Touch yourself,” he purred in her ear. “I want to see you.”

“Yes, Captain.” She wet her lips, slowly circling her fingertip around the areola of her left breast. The skin puckered almost immediately; it was very arousing to touch her body as her lover watched. Emma squirmed a little as she got closer and closer to the swollen tip, wetness slid down her thighs. Killian placed a line of kisses along her shoulder, his hand caressing her belly and hip. She could feel how hard he was, his long thick cock nestled in the cleft of her ass. She cupped both breasts with a soft moan; the tease felt too good to stop.

“Hmm, there’s my naughty Princess,” he growled, thrusting his hips gently against her ass. “You like touching yourself, don’t you?”

“I like it more when you watch, Captain.”

He grinned salaciously, dipping his hand between her legs. She was dripping. “I see.” He let her taste, then went back for seconds for himself. She tasted divine; it was one of his favorite treats. The settee cut off her nude form from the waist down, but that somehow made everything more intense. He touched her sex, a slow tease of her clit. Emma moaned and arched; a fresh wave of want rolled through her.

“Killian…”

“Tell me what you want, darling.”

“More,” she breathed. “Please.”

He gave her a little shove. “Lean over the couch, Princess.”

Emma shivered; he infused his voice with just enough of the pirate captain to make her _need_. They sometimes played Pirate and Princess or Pirate and Wench, both of which she loved. She loved everything about her husband; she didn’t want him to feel like he needed to hide anything about himself. He was a pirate and she _liked_ that.

Killian kissed his way down her back, enjoying the pink flush of her skin. Emma had a lovely arse; he carefully parted her cheeks and gave her a good lick.

“Oh fuck,” she breathed, his tongue doing wicked things to her. His hand teased her, fingers sliding over wet folds, nails scraped over the edge of her entrance. He knew exactly how to drive her crazy.

“My wanton Princess.” He pushed two fingers into her heat, his tongue still working her puckered hole. “Do you know how fucking sexy this is, love?”

She whined, his touch still only teasing her. It was nowhere near enough to get her off. She was hungry for him, desperate to fall over the edge. “Killian…please.”

He moved his hand faster, curling his fingers to find her sweet spot. He knew he found it when she began to tremble, right on the edge of orgasm. “Not so fast, Princess.”

She cried out in frustration, but Killian was already moving behind her. He knelt on the cushion, his hand guiding her hips back. They both moaned loudly as he filled her in one stroke, her walls stretching to accommodate him. “God yes,” Emma breathed, using the top edge of the settee as a hand hold so she could ride him. Killian wove his hand into her hair, content to watch his gorgeous wife fuck his cock like the wanton she was.

“That’s it, Princess,” he muttered. “So wet and tight for me, aren’t you?”

She mewled, secretly addicted to how much thicker his accent got during sex. The well read man fell away to reveal the sexy pirate within. It felt like he was made for her; their bodies moving in complete sync, feeling off each other’s desire. “Yes, Captain,” she agreed, biting back another moan. “Only for you.”

He growled, giving her ass a teasing smack. “Faster,” he ordered, watching her in the mirror. She was so beautiful like this; this was the kind of adventure he could enjoy. Trapped in another realm with the most stunning companion, the woman he loved more than anything in the world, watching as she gave herself over to pleasure. He moved with her, thrusting forward as she thrust back, their hips slapping together deliciously. Emma moaned loudly, her lover’s cock hitting her deep.

“Killian, oh fuck, that’s good,” she breathed, chasing orgasm. “So. Fucking. Good.”

“Love watching you ride my cock, Princess. Such a needy thing.” He bent over her, his right hand beside hers on the top of the settee, his hips jerking into hers. They knew each other well, yet always sought to find new ways of finding their peak. “Look in the mirror, darling,” he whispered in her ear. “See what a dirty wench you are. All for me.”

She mewled, dragging her eyes to the mirror. She saw herself, hair a mess, lips kiss bitten, pupils blown, knuckles white as he slammed into her over and over again. Emma had always enjoyed sex, but there was something about Killian that made her crave it. Perhaps True Love was the ultimate aphrodisiac. “Yes, Captain, yes,” she whined, so, so close to coming. “All yours.”

“Now, love. Let me watch you fall.” A few more strokes and she was there, shattering in his arms, walls clamping viciously around his cock. He grunted, rocking through it, desperate to enjoy her as long as possible. Emma sagged, her head falling down between her arms, caught up in the undertow as Killian fucked her to completion. She felt him pulse, warm spurts of his seed filling her. She shivered, her hand finding his as he pumped into her until he was spent. Killian panted, still leaning on her, not wanting to let her go. This was exactly where he wanted to be.

They curled up together on the settee; Emma rested her head on her husband’s chest. She liked listening to his heart thump, proof that he was alive and well. Even after years of marriage, she liked having that reassurance.

Killian kissed her hairline. “Worth being late for the Queen?”

“How am I supposed to explain?”

“I told you, Swan. You married a scoundrel, far beneath you.”

“Hey, don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Put yourself down. In case you missed it, I’ve never pretended to be a saint here.”

“One of the many reasons I love you, Swan.”

She raised her head. “You are a good man, Killian Jones. I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you if you weren’t.”

“Old habits, love. Centuries of darkness.”

She kissed his lips. “I know. Just try. For me.”

“Anything for you.” He sighed into her kiss, combing his fingers through her long locks. “As much I don’t want to let you go…”

She deflated. “I know. If I don’t show soon, Victoria will probably send out a search party.”

“I think she’s simply lonely,” he said wisely. “From the history I know, she was very sheltered. And there’s no one else here who’s her equal.”

“Melbourne is.”

Killian shook his head. “You’ll never convince him of that. She’s the bloody Queen. He’s convinced he doesn’t deserve her.”

“Speaking from experience?”

Killian nodded. “Aye. And now this Albert bloke is coming. I’ve no earthly idea how we’re going to get out of this, Swan.”

“We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

He grinned. “My love, the optimist.”

“Maybe I’m feeling good because I laid for the first time in two days.”

“Well, if that’s all it takes…” Killian smirked, lips descending on hers.

Emma was going to be _very_ late.

 

* * *

 

“Where have you been?”

Emma winced inwardly. Of all the people she could run into on her way to find Victoria, it had to be the Baroness. “I got turned around,” she said, partly honestly. “This place is a maze. Baroness.” She held her head up and tried to sound princess like.

The Baroness may not like her, but her tone did the trick. The older woman curtsied swiftly. “Apologies, Your Highness. I spoke out of turn. Her Majesty was simply worried.”

“I will apologize to Her Majesty for my tardiness. Is she still in the library?”

“She has moved to the music room. Do you wish me to guide you, Highness?”

“No, I can manage.” The music room wasn’t far; she could find it on her own. Once the Baroness was gone, Emma moved that way. She heard a piano playing a soft melancholy melody. Emma knocked before entering. “Victoria?”

The music stopped. “Emma!” The younger woman practically jumped up, the frown between her brows falling away. “I was so worried.”

“Sorry. I, uh…” Lying to the Baroness was one thing, lying to her friend was something else. “Um, Killian and I…” _No, don’t mention Killian!_

But Victoria relaxed. “Oh, of course! How selfish of me to keep you from your husband, Emma.”

Emma bit on her cheek; Victoria could have no idea what Emma and Killian had truly been up to just now. “No, no, it’s fine.”

“It has been such a joy, these last few evenings. I was just telling Lord M that before he had to go back to the House.”

“Is everything alright?”

Victoria’s face fell. “I’m not sure. One moment he is the most _wonderful_ and the next…I do believe my poor Lord M is at war with himself.”

For someone as young as Victoria, she was very astute. “Do you want to talk about it? If you don’t mind the observation, he seems very attached to you.”

Victoria took her hands and guided them both to the nearest couch. The Queen of England seemed almost…shy. She looked to Emma with such hope, like she could finally unburden herself. “Lord M has been my most faithful friend since I became Queen. I am quite certain I could not do it without him.”

Emma tilted her head. “Oh, I don’t know about that. The way you handled your uncle? Very queenly.”

Victoria looked sad. “Mama believes I have wronged him.”

Emma scoffed. “Victoria, he’s trying to convince you to marry someone _he_ chose for you. That’s not right. You deserve someone who will make you happy.”

“Like you and the Captain?”

Emma blushed. “Yeah. Victoria, he’s not royalty. I wouldn’t want him to be. I want him to be _Killian._ We love each other, flaws and all.”

“He’s very good to you.”

“I hope I am to him too.”

“You wouldn’t doubt that if you saw the way he looks at you when you can’t see. He adores you.”

“I’ll bet Lord Melbourne feels the same way about you.” Emma looked thoughtful. “Do you want to marry him?”

Victoria nodded. Goodness, it was such a relief to let someone know her secret! She loved Lord M and wanted everyone to know! But he’d made her promise to be discreet. Until the time was right. She clung to that even though she suspected he was still trying to be careful with her heart. Why couldn’t he allow himself to be happy? No one deserved happiness more than her Lord M. “Very much. But he believes it will cause a scandal. But I don’t care!”

Emma tried to remember some of the things Killian had told her about the English succession. Would Victoria marrying Melbourne truly be such a bad thing? The history of it all gave her pause, but this was some parallel world, right? Perhaps Victoria could have what she wanted here and not ruin the history Emma knew.

Or not. She had no idea what would happen. But Emma did know how it felt to feel like you were losing the one you loved. She’d almost lost Killian more times than she could count. It was obvious to her that Victoria and Lord Melbourne loved each other deeply. “Why would it cause a scandal?”

Victoria blushed. “He does not wish to tarnish me with his past. His first wife was…” She paused, grasping for the right word. “Untrue. But I would _never_ do that!”

Okay, Emma hasn’t expected _that._ “I’m sure you wouldn’t. But that’s not the whole story?”

Victoria shook her head. Her lack of knowledge gnawed at her. Both of the world and of her beloved Lord M. “Lehzen called him disreputable the very first time he came to Kensington for an audience. I didn’t know what that meant, I still don’t. He’s never claimed to be perfect, but he’s such a good kind man!”

Emma smiled. Victoria was clearly besotted. “Handsome too.”

Victoria blushed an even deeper red. “Yes, he is!” This was what she needed! Someone to unburden herself to, someone who understood and had no reason to want to placate her. Emma was a true friend. “Is it so very obvious?”

“You light up when he enters a room. Your eyes are always looking for him.” Emma could speak from experience, because she was drawn to Killian like a moth to a flame.

“I try not to. Lord M…” Victoria wrung her hands together. “He’s been counseling patience. And I understand why. But I am so very _impatient!”_ Their little interlude in the forest kept her up at night. Whenever she thought about his hands on her, she grew warm all over with a dreadful ache between her thighs. In the dark privacy of her bed, she’d begun to explore her body, wishing it was Lord M instead. She wanted him so badly.

“So, what’s the real obstacle?”

Victoria wished Lord M was here. He was so much better at explaining these things. But Victoria explained the history of her family as best she could. It was such a sad tale; everyone seemed so unhappy.

There were so many Georges and Adelaides and Victorias and Williams, Emma’s head was spinning. “Okay, wait. Let me see if I got this straight. Your grandfather had Parliament make a law that said unless his family married people he approved of they would be kicked out of the succession? This is the grandfather who was mad, right?”

“The law was established in 1772, but essentially yes.”

“Why would he do that?”

Victoria shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. He died not long after I was born.”

“Does the law say you _have_ to marry a prince?”

Victoria’s eyes widened. “Not as far as I know. I had to become very well acquainted with it during my lessons with Lehzen.” Indeed, they spent more time on that than on the English Constitution! Now that Victoria was Queen, she wished it had been the other way around. She still felt out of her depth. “But whoever I marry must be a Protestant, unattached, and approved by the Sovereign.”

Emma’s face lit up. “Victoria, _you’re_ the Sovereign. The only person who has to approve is you.”

“But the Privy Council…” Now she was beginning to understand why Lord M preached caution. Her head hurt, just thinking about it.

“If there’s no legal or religious barrier, then they can’t really stop you.”

“Lord M thinks his status as a Whig will hurt the Crown. But I try very hard to be impartial!” She didn’t always succeed, but that was hardly Lord M’s fault. “He’s already said he’d have to resign as my Prime Minister.”

“Looks like he’s covered all the angles.”

“He’s very wise.”

“Victoria, if he feels as deeply as you do, then you’ll find a way to be together. True Love always does.” If only Snow White could hear her now!

“I pray you are right, Emma. All I want in this world is to be his wife.”

Emma smiled. “I know _exactly_ how that feels.” She covered her friend’s hand with hers, hoping she wasn’t overstepping. But Victoria’s smile was warm and friendly. “If there’s anything I can do…just ask, okay?”

“Thank you.” Victoria couldn’t describe how it felt to have someone around her _finally_ understand how she felt and did not judge her for it. If Emma could be happy with her captain, then there was hope. All Victoria needed was some hope.

 

* * *

 

“Captain Jones!”

Killian spun around, surprised. “Lord Melbourne! I didn’t see you there.”

Melbourne chuckled. “I was on my way out, Captain. I’ve just come from the Queen.”

“How is Her Majesty?”

“Well. I expect you’ll see her again before I do.”

“Aye, Emma and Her Majesty have become quite good friends. But you’ll be joining us for dinner this evening?”

“If my duties allow.” He knew Albert and his brother were due to arrive any day now; he’d been greedy these last few days, spending late nights at the palace, soaking up Victoria’s warmth and her smiles. He’d been careful not to be alone with her outside of their normal daily audiences. It was too big a risk. Those audiences were a new kind of torture, now that he had a small taste of her. It was madness. _He_ was mad. He had to be to even consider that he might actually get what he yearned for. He was too old, too jaded.

But somehow, she made him believe in hope.

Killian saw the shadow pass behind the other man’s eyes. Emma thought something was going on between Victoria and her Prime Minister; Killian knew a conflicted man when he saw one. Melbourne adored his Queen, that much was clear. “Your presence would be very welcome, my Lord.”

Melbourne considered the other man. He quite liked the captain. “My friends call me William.”

Killian held out his hand. “Killian.”

Melbourne accepted the hand, shaking firmly. “I will make every effort to attend. We have a discussion about Trafalgar to finish, do we not?”

“Aye, we do.” Killian watched as the other man departed, thinking. Melbourne reminded him a bit of himself, during those lonely days when he pined for Emma. Now she was his wife and they were happy. They shared a slightly jaded view of the world, brightened by the women they loved. He didn’t know much about this Albert bloke, but he had a feeling he couldn’t love Victoria half as well the man who’d just left.

There had to be something they could do. In the meantime, he had some research to do.

 

* * *

 

“These flowers are lovely.”

Victoria beamed. “Lord M sends them from Brocket Hall.” She gently touched the row of gardenias in her hair; they had quickly become her favorite. “Very difficult to grow, or so I’m told.”

“Killian’s not much of a gardener.” Emma took a sip of her drink. “But we do like to do sailing on his ship.”

“He has his own ship?”

“Don’t you have a whole navy at your disposal?”

Victoria laughed. “Yes, I suppose I do. You like that? Going sailing?”

Emma nodded. “It’s nice to get away from our regular lives for a while. And he loves it. The sea’s in his blood.”

“And perhaps your children’s one day as well?”

Emma thought about Henry, how much he loved sailing with Killian. Yeah, she hoped their kids loved it just as much. “One day. We haven’t been married that long really. I kinda want to be selfish for a little bit longer.” She definitely didn’t want to get into the whole trying to get pregnant thing before she talked to Henry. She remembered all too well her own shock when she found out her parents were having another kid. She didn’t want to put Henry through that.

Victoria stepped closer, glancing left and right before she spoke again. “Emma, how does one go about being ‘selfish’?”

 _Oh god._ They’d started this conversation a few days ago; thankfully for Emma, they’d been interrupted. But Victoria was a determined woman, if young and inexperienced. Emma did not think she should be the one giving the Queen of England sex advice, but she didn’t know how to deflect gracefully. “Um…” Emma herself had modern birth control, a small implant in her arm. However, there was no way to explain _that._ “There are a lot of ways. Don’t you want children?”

“I know it’s my duty,” Victoria replied. “But I don’t know how I feel about…babies? Or childbirth. I must sound like a horrible person.”

“No, you don’t.” She guided them over to a window seat. “Kids are scary.” Discovering she was pregnant had been the most frightening moment of her life. When Henry was born, Emma knew she was in no place to take care of him. Not that she could tell Victoria that. She was posing as a newlywed, not a woman with a teenage son. “As well as messy and hard work. I don’t blame you at all for wanting to wait.”

“Truly?”

“Yeah.” She loved Henry so much, but she wouldn’t wish young motherhood on anyone. No one should carry such a burden that young. Victoria was vibrant and alive; she deserved some time to herself before raising a gaggle of kids. “I don’t know how helpful I can be though.”

“Anything would be most appreciated.”

That was how she and the Queen of England passed the time after dinner, whispering about sex. It was awkward as hell at first, but Victoria was so earnest, Emma couldn’t help but relax. By the time the men returned, they were giggling like schoolgirls, with Victoria blushing furiously.

“What are you two up to?” Killian asked, striding up to his wife and kissing her temple.

“Nothing,” they said together. Victoria saw Lord M hanging back, his lips curved in a half smile. She knew it was for her. How she longed for him to walk up to her and kiss her the way Killian did with Emma! They were so open with their affection; Victoria was deeply envious. It was the kind of thing she longed for in her own life. _One day,_ she promised herself silently. _One day he would be hers._

“Drina, would you play for us?”

Victoria was drawn from her thoughts by her mother. She was still angry, but this was not the place to show it. Every day since she banished Leopold, her mother harangued her about the injustice of it, that her uncle only had her best interests at heart. Victoria refused to listen. How could anyone who claimed to love her betray her so? She knew her uncle was still in the country, staying at a home he’d long rented in London. With Albert on the way, it seemed he was foolish enough to think he might still win. But he underestimated Victoria. The only man she intended to marry was Lord M.

Her composure was a weapon she intended to wield effectively.

“Yes, Mama, I believe I will.” There was a smattering of applause as she moved to her piano; she caught Lord M staring at her intently from across the room. A pleasant shiver went down her spine as she sat before the instrument. He was so far away from her, but she could almost feel his breath on her neck. She recalled vividly the last time he kissed her, that night in the ballroom. She wanted to feel that way again.

Melbourne stayed back, content to watch his Queen from a far. As much as he’d enjoyed debating with his new friend Killian, he couldn’t deny that he’d been itching to get back to her. Dinner was another excruciating experience with the Duchess of Kent spending the majority of it glaring daggers at him. She clearly blamed him for her brother’s current difficulties. Which was far from the truth. Leopold dug that particular grave all on his own.

The Duchess should know better than to underestimate her daughter.

Melbourne was very proud of how she’d handled the situation. She was decisive and forthright, very queenly. And he fell a little bit more in love with her.

The strains of Mozart filled the air and Melbourne had to struggle not to smile. He knew it was for him. Just as he brought her flowers, she gave him the gift of music. Their unspoken way of reminding each other how deeply they felt.

Victoria knew the piece by heart; it was one of her favorites. She thought she flubbed one or two measures, but overall, she felt like she did well. She smiled happily as applause broke out once more, but there was only one person whose opinion mattered. Her eyes sought his, the green bright and happy. Lord M applauded with the rest, gracing her with the proud soft smile he saved just for her. She nodded in acknowledgement, then returned to the instrument.

Feeling lighter than air, Victoria launched into a Chopin piece that she was fond of. It was difficult, fast paced and fluid; she relished the chance to show off, just a little. She knew much of it, only needing the sheet music occasionally. It felt good to lose herself in the music, not worry about her mother or her uncle or anything that threatened her happiness. All that mattered was the love she had for her Lord M.

Emma leaned against her husband’s shoulder, letting herself relax. She had no idea what Victoria was playing but it sounded good to her. She suspected Killian would know. She’d caught him enjoying classical music on his phone. She wondered if it reminded him of where he’d come from. He knew his share of rowdy drinking songs and sea shanties, but he was refined in a way she envied. He fit in here; she didn’t, no matter what he said.

There was a commotion in the hall. Everyone but Victoria seemed to notice. Emma heard men coming. Even Victoria’s dog, Dash, perked up. She turned and saw a pair of men enter the room. The Duchess of Kent was the first to stand, curtseying deeply, a smirking smile on her lips. Others hurried to follow suit, all aside from Emma and Killian. She had no idea who the hell they were.

The taller of the two men strode directly for Victoria, still playing at the piano. She was focused on the music, blocking out everything else. Emma’s instinct was to rush forward, protect her from the stranger, but Killian held her back.

The man was handsome, sort of. He had brown hair with a matching mustache. He looked like he was about Victoria’s age. Before Emma could call out a warning, the man reached out and turned the page for the piece Victoria was playing. It took her a moment to notice and when she did, the music stopped abruptly.

Who had the gall to interrupt her? Victoria looked up and saw a face she hadn’t seen in years. Older now, with a ridiculous mustache, but it was him. “Albert.”

“Cousin Victoria. I see your playing has improved.”

Her hackles rose. How dare he! Victoria stood abruptly; Dash started to bark. She ducked down to pick up him, holding the dog between herself and Albert. “Calm down, Dash. It’s only Cousin Albert.”

“I am sorry if your dog does not remember me.”

“Dash was only being protective, weren’t you, Dash?” She kissed the dog’s soft fur. Inwardly, she was fuming; she never wanted Albert to come. She’d secretly hoped that their uncle’s disgrace would convince he and Ernest to stay away. Clearly, she’d been wrong.

“Drina,” her mother said, pushing forward to her nephew’s side. “You’re being rude to your guests.”

“Mama, it’s clear that no one around here adheres to my wishes,” Victoria snapped.

“Cousin Victoria!” Ernest hurried forward and bent to kiss her hand. “How lovely you look this evening.”

She couldn’t help but smile. Ernest, at least, was a gentleman. “Thank you, Ernest. It is good to see you again.”

“It had been too long, Cousin. I hope we are not intruding?”

They were, but they were still her family. She did not have the heart to kick them out when they just arrived. Perhaps they were not privy to their uncle’s schemes. It would not due to punish them for the sins of others. “No, not at all. You are welcome to stay with us.”

“I must admit to being excited for this visit, Cousin,” Ernest said, filling the silence. Why didn’t Albert speak up? Must he do everything himself? “We will surely be quite the tourists! Won’t we, brother?”

“ _That’s_ Albert?” Emma hissed to her husband.

He nodded. “Aye. I’ve seen photographs of him. Older, of course.”

“He seems so…stiff.”

“He’s certainly not very wise in the ways of women.” Albert hung back awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable.

“Do you think he’s in on the marry Victoria plan?”

Killian nodded again. “He’s not a fool, Swan. He comes from a tiny principality, a poor one at that. Marrying the Queen of England is the best way to secure his future.”

“And what about Victoria’s happiness? Does no one care about that?”

“Someone does, Swan.” He nodded toward the corner where Melbourne stood. He pretended to be disinterested but Killian knew better. He knew exactly how the other man felt. He’d felt the same way when he’d watched Emma with Neal in Neverland. Never had she felt so far away from him.

Albert was saying something about old masters and visiting museums, but Victoria wasn’t paying attention. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye; Lord M was leaving! No! “Excuse me,” she muttered hastily, dropping Dash. Her dog ran off, Victoria apparently on his heels. Her mother called after her, but Victoria ignored her. She spotted Lord M turning the corner at the end of the hall. Victoria picked up her skirts and ran after him. She couldn’t let him leave, not until she spoke to him, dignity be damned.

“Lord M!”

Melbourne heard her call. He almost didn’t stop. Everything in him demanded he stop. She was his darling girl; he was consumed by her. But seeing Albert seemed to break something inside him. He couldn’t stand there and smile, watch her fall in love with someone else. Deep down, he knew Albert was better for her; young and handsome, no whiff of scandal, royal. He was everything Victoria deserved.

And yet she was chasing after _him_.

Victoria stared up at him with anguished blue eyes. “Were you going to leave without saying goodnight?” Goodnight and not goodbye. It was exquisite torture, her hope.

“I didn’t want to intrude, Ma’am.”

“It was just Cousin Albert.”

“Yes, Albert.”

Victoria tilted her head, a frown appearing between her brows. “You know how I feel about him, Lord M.”

“You hardly know him, Ma’am.”

Boldly, she placed her hand on his arm. “You know how I feel about _you,_ William.”

“I am trying not to, Ma’am.”

“Why?”

He looked away from her, her beautiful blue eyes reminding him of everything he could not have. “Because I’m afraid.”

She blinked. Her Lord M afraid? It was difficult to wrap her mind around. “Please don’t be afraid, Lord M.”

He smiled ruefully. “You have courage for both of us, Victoria.”

“I will gladly share it.” She smiled, her gaze drinking him in. He was so handsome, even in this quiet moment, her heart raced. How could she prove that he was the only man she wanted? That she cared naught for the obstacles in their way? “Kiss me?”

If only it were so easy. Her request was simple enough, the memory of her kiss haunting his dreams. Watching Killian claim his wife’s affections so openly in company made him more than a little jealous. How he yearned to do the same, show everyone that she loved him and only him!

He’d already cross so many lines for her. Melbourne looked down at her earnest upturned face, those eyes filled with love and longing. All for him. How could he deny her? “Not here,” he whispered urgently.

Victoria was about to protest when he took her hand forcefully. A thrill of excitement shot up her spine as he guided them to a darkened room, ushering her through the door. The moment it closed he pressed her against it, finding her mouth in the darkness. She tasted sweet, like the wine they’d had at dinner. This was nothing like those first kisses; this was knowing and hungry, her tongue moving eagerly against his. His chest swelled, knowing _he’d_ done this to her. He brought out the passionate woman within the gilded monarch.

Victoria’s fingers curled tightly in his waistcoat, her knees weakening with every slide of his tongue and lips. Warmth flooded her, the now familiar ache built in her core. “Lord M,” she breathed, her head falling against the door.

“William,” he reminded her. “As much as I enjoy your little pet name, sweetheart, my name is William.”

“William,” she agreed. She smiled up at him, even though he couldn’t see her. It was so dark, but that simply made things more exciting. She sighed into his kiss, her arms wrapping around his neck.

“My sweet Victoria.” He let his lips ghost over her slim throat, inhaling her unique scent. How many times had he imagined her in his bed? How many times had he touched himself to images of her? It was unlike anything he’d experienced before, the way he burned for her.

She loved the way he loomed over her, his height never making her feel small or inferior. No, it called to something within her, something she didn’t understand. But she needed this, needed _him_. No one else could ever make her feel this way. “More,” she whined. She missed his touch, the incredible way he made her feel. She wanted to feel that way again.

“We can’t.” He wanted nothing more than to make love to her, spend all night bringing her pleasure, but he could not. She was his Queen and he was not her husband.

“Please,” she pleaded, staring up at him with huge eyes. He could just make out the whites in the darkness. “Like that day in the forest. Please, William.”

The way she said his name should be illegal. He didn’t have the strength to deny her. Not anymore. He might only have a few of these moments left; they would keep him warm during the long lonely nights without her. “Come.” He took her hand and guided them to a couch, bumping into some other furniture on the way. “You must be quiet,” he warned.

She would do anything he asked; she craved his touch. With him, she was a desirable woman, not the Queen. He was not after her power; he wanted _her._ It was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. He held her hands tightly as he dropped her into the seat. She stared at him with wide eyes; his silhouette knelt before her. “William?”

“Shhh.” Melbourne dared to slide his hands under the hem of her gown, waiting for her to come to her senses and stop him. He felt her shiver, as he delicately stroked her over her stockings. He found a sensitive spot behind her knee; Victoria let out a strangled sound of pleasure. Melbourne inhaled deeply; she was so responsive, he ached for her. “Tell me to stop, Victoria.”

Once again, she shook her head. She needed this. “No, William. Never stop.”  She leaned forward and ran her fingers through her lover’s hair, hoping she wasn’t making a fool of herself. His soft groan of pleasure was music to her ears.

Melbourne leaned forward and kissed the swells of her breasts, held in place by the stiff corset. He could hear her heart racing, her breathing hitch. “You have no idea how badly I want you.”

“Oh god.” She fell back against the couch, trying to make sense of the feelings he stirred in her. She felt Lord M pushing up her skirts; she instinctively inched forward, sighing as his lips touched her skin. Victoria followed the dictates of her body, eager for more of the delicious sensations he drew from her. Was this some of the things Emma had told her about? Their talk was as fascinating as it had been embarrassing; Victoria hated when she didn’t understand things. Emma was a godsend; she didn’t want Lord M to think of her as a little girl, not when he was such a man of the world.

He couldn’t believe he was doing this. On his knees in a darkened room, kneeling between the pale lovely thighs of the woman he loved. His monarch, his _Queen._ It was impossible and wonderful and terrifying all at once. She smelled divine, heady and sweet, her skin soft and supple. He wanted to taste her, make her quiver with need. He still expected her to stop him at any moment. He pressed her thighs wider apart, dipping his fingers into her the slit of her drawers. She was slick and hot; his cock twitched in response. He wanted her with a need that bordered on madness, but he had to restrain himself. For her sake. That was one risk he would not take, not unless he could call her his own.

And that was the slimmest of possibilities.

She felt like she was drowning. His touch was soft, exploring her, petting her aching flesh. She writhed and squirmed, hungry for more. “William,” she gasped. “Please.”

Melbourne let go of his hesitation. He could not deny them something they both needed so badly. He spread the material of her drawers, blowing warm air on her delicate flesh. Victoria whined, trying to heed his warning about keeping quiet. This was so forbidden; she couldn’t make herself stop. She loved him, she wanted him with her always. Her skirts blocked the dim view; all she could do was _feel._ Warmth touched her swollen flesh; Victoria jumped.

“Steady, darling girl,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

She relaxed a bit, biting on her lip to keep from crying out. She quickly realized he was caressing her most secret flesh with his tongue and lips; her heart threatened to beat out of her chest. Nothing—not even her secret talk with Emma—could have prepared her for the heat that flowed through her. She moved without thinking, seeking more friction, more of his attentions. He circled her sensitive nub, over and over and over; Victoria tightened her grip on her gown, struggling to keep quiet. Pressure like she’d never experienced built in her belly, her whole body quivering.

He was already addicted. Sweet did not begin to describe her exquisite taste. He lapped at her nectar, his thumb stroking her clit. She shook, her legs collapsing against his head, her body rapidly falling out of her control. He could sense she was close. Melbourne pressed two fingers into her heat, curling them to find the spot that would send her over the edge.

Victoria gasped, belatedly covering her mouth as she gave into the extraordinary high. She felt like she was flying, his touch unceasing, stroking her ever higher. Stars popped behind her eyes, blood rushed in her ears. She never wanted this feeling to end.

Melbourne brought her down slowly, reluctant to stop touching her. He may never have this chance again.  Her breath came in harsh pants, her thighs shook. When she finally went still, he extracted his hand and licked his fingers clean, savoring the taste of her. He pressed a tender kiss to her thigh, then backed up. It hurt, his pants painfully tight, but he didn’t dare see to his own needs. She was far more important.

Gradually, Victoria came back to herself. Lord M lowered her skirts; instantly she felt bereft. Lips touched the back on her hand, the tender kiss of a lover, not the formal kiss of a politician. “My darling girl.”

She curled into him, craving his warmth. “Hmmm.”

It was torture. He wanted her, but he still wasn’t good for her. Yet he didn’t know what else to do. She seemed determined. Just in the last hour, she spurned a handsome young man to chase after him, eager for _his_ touch, _his_ kiss. She was begging him to fight for her. How could he deny her? If there was a way, he would find it. He could do no less for his darling girl.

They remained in the darkness as long as Melbourne dared. Stealing these moments was dangerous. At length, he coaxed her up. “Ma’am, you must return. You will be missed.”

“I excused myself, Lord M,” she said. “They will no doubt believe I have retired.”

“Still, you must leave. The palace has too many eyes. It is not safe for you.”

“It would be if we…”

He placed a finger to her lips. “Not yet, Victoria.”

“But…”

“Your cousin just arrived.”

“I don’t want Albert!” She sounded almost hysterical, something she hated. How could she make him see that he was the only man she wanted? “I want you!”

“We must be patient. We must win people over.”

“But there’s no impediment to our marriage,” she argued quietly. “You are not Catholic, you are unmarried, and I am the sovereign.”

“And yet, I am merely a minor noble.”

“I don’t care.”

“You may not, but others do. The opposition already fears my influence over you.”

“They think me incapable of making up my own mind,” she said bitterly.

“They do not know you as I do. They must get to know that Victoria. Only then will there be a chance of achieving what you desire.”

“I have never been very patient,” she admitted.

He smiled down at her. “I know, Ma’am. But you have courage in spades. I have faith in you.”

She breathed deeply. She had to be strong. For both of them. It was the only way to achieve her goal. She sighed as his lips touched hers one last time. Neither knew when they could share this kind of intimacy again. It was an unspoken fear. Her mother would undoubtedly be pushing her toward Albert, but she would not be swayed. She knew what she wanted, and she was determined to get it.

Melbourne watched her disappear from the room, her skirts swishing. He waited for ten long minutes before leaving himself, going in the opposite direction. He took his carriage back to Dover House, finally allowing himself a kernel of hope.

 

* * *

 

She was going to go mad. It was only a few days into her cousins’ visit, yet Victoria could hardly find a moment to herself. Her mother spent almost every minute trying to persuade her to spend time with Albert. Victoria managed to beg off, citing her duties, but she knew her mother would not give up. It was most upsetting, because she could not shake the feeling that her mother did not truly believe she was up to the task of being Queen. Why else would she keep trying to marry her off and extol the virtues of motherhood? Victoria was deeply fearful of pregnancy, all too aware of what happened to her cousin Charlotte.

Only Emma seemed to understand. Whenever she was forced to spend time with her cousin, Victoria made sure Emma and her husband were somewhere in the room. It was probably unfair of her to expect her friend to act as a buffer, but she could hardly stand Albert’s presence for more than a few minutes. He was maddening! He didn’t play cards; he was constantly critical of everything she did. He was _not_ charming at all!

How could her uncle believe that this boy could make her happy? Victoria craved affection, amusing and witty company, passion. There did not seem to be a passionate bone in Albert’s body. All he talked of was art and science, topics that did not interest her in the slightest. The only thing they seemed to have in common was music, yet even there, he could not bring himself to be anything but a bore. He critiqued her playing, her taste in pieces; he even announced to all that would listen that she would not truly play well unless she practiced more!

She was the Queen of England; she did not have time to do scales every day!

Oh, she _hated_ him!

She longed for Lord M. She only saw him during their audiences and other official functions. He seemed to be avoiding her. She missed him fiercely. She suspected his motives; he was always looking out for her interests. Everyone around her expected her to fall into the arms of the young handsome prince. They were mistaken. Victoria was polite, formal when forced to be in Albert’s company. Albert, for his part, did not seem to be trying very hard to win her over. Perhaps he could not. He didn’t seem very comfortable in the presence of women. He was the complete opposite of Ernest, who spent most of his time flirting with her ladies!

Victoria balled her fist, frustration bubbling up in her. She was alone for the moment, blissfully alone. She was due to return to the throne room soon, the formal presentation of some ambassador or other.

Lord M would be there.

A knock startled her. “Enter.”

She half hoped it would be Lord M, but it was Emma who entered. “Victoria? Is everything okay?”

Victoria sagged into the window seat; it looked out over the park. It only made her miss Lord M all over again. “I needed a few moments alone.”

“Oh, sorry. I can go.”

“No, stay. I am afraid you are the only one I can talk to lately.”

Emma sat beside her, concerned about her friend. Victoria seemed sad and withdrawn since Albert’s arrival. All they did was bicker; Albert was frequently rude. Emma didn’t like him one bit. He acted superior, treated Victoria like she was stupid. Emma had almost given him a piece of her mind a couple of times, but Killian stopped her, pointing out that Victoria had to fight this battle on her own. All she could do was support her friend as best she could. “Things have been kinda intense around here lately,” she said carefully.

“Emma, I feel I must apologize to you. I’m afraid I’ve been abusing your friendship.”

“Hey, I know what it’s like for people to expect more from you than you feel like you can give.” She never wanted to be a Savior or a hero or anything like that. Often since coming to Storybrooke, Emma felt like the pressure was too much. In her darkest days, she believed she wouldn’t get a happy ending. Now she was married to her True Love, had her son and her parents and a home.

“I love him,” Victoria said softly. “And I miss him so much. It must sound silly; I see him every day. But it’s not the same.”

Emma squeezed her hand. “Hey, I get it.” She didn’t know just how intimate the Queen and her Prime Minister had become, but she knew that the kind of emotional intimacy they shared could not be replaced. Emma herself relied on Killian as her closest friend long before they became lovers. She suspected it was the same for Victoria and Melbourne. “Would it make you feel better to know he’s here?”

“He is?”

“Yeah, he arrived a few minutes ago. If you want, I can cover so you can have a minute.”

“Emma, I would be most grateful. Thank you!”

Emma smiled, pleased to see her friend happy. “You’re welcome.”

“We must have a dance this evening,” Victoria gushed. “I insist.”

“Okay. Killian will be thrilled.”

“You don’t like to dance?”

Emma blushed. “I do, but don’t tell Killian. I like when he teases me about it.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” The women hugged and departed. Emma let her know where Lord M was waiting for her, before disappearing to head off anyone who happened by. Victoria found him on the balcony, looking out over the city. Victoria admired her beloved’s handsome profile, drinking him in like she hadn’t seen him in weeks.

Melbourne knew the moment she stepped into the room. He was always attuned to her. Still, he could not bring himself to turn and face her. He needed to be strong. He knew he was weak when it came to her. This was a delicate time; he could not be seen as imposing himself while Albert attempted to woo her. He knew what Victoria’s feelings and intentions were; the public at large did not. They already mocked her as Mrs. Melbourne; he refused to give them any more ammunition to use against her. They had been reckless enough already.

Victoria approached slowly, the sun warming her skin. It was starting to become chilly, fall well and truly settling in. Yet it did not touch her. Neither spoke; they did not need to. Victoria reached out, sliding her hand over his where it rested on the railing. He glanced down at her hand, swallowing as he tightened his fingers around her smaller ones. It was a relatively innocent touch, but it warmed his weary soul. _I’m here,_ it said. _I’m not going anywhere._

Melbourne turned her hand over and threaded their fingers together. Victoria looked at him intently as he brought her hand to his lips, branding her with his touch. _I’m here too,_ it said. _I miss you._

“I’ve decided to host a small dance this evening,” she said quietly, breaking the silence.

“For the princes?”

“For my friends,” she corrected. “As my friend…”

“I will gladly attend, Ma’am.” His response was a tad quick, but he would not take the words back. As long as he avoided being alone with her, everything would be fine.

“I look forward to it.” Melbourne again watched her leave, her head held high like the Queen she was. He followed not long after, his presence required for the ceremony. But his mind was not engaged. He was mentally going through his flowers at Brocket Hall. He might not be able to declare himself openly, but he could show his intentions through a language only they understood.

Yes, gardenias would do nicely.

* * *

 

Victoria held the flower to her nose, inhaling its fragrant scent. Lord M always sent her the most splendid flowers. She tucked it into the bosom of her dress, then admired herself in the mirror.

“Very beautiful, Ma’am,” Skerrett said.

“I hope so.”

“Everyone’s eyes will be drawn to you.”

There was only one pair of eyes she wanted on her. She swept from her apartment to join her guests. Since this was a private party, there was not as much formality as a court function. Her mother was there already, talking with Cousin Albert. Ernest was in deep conversation with Harriet. Emma and Killian were there as well, laughing quietly together. Her eyes sought her love. Lord M remained in the far corner, speaking softly with Lady Portman. An unfamiliar emotion curled in her belly. Did he need to stand so close to her? His face lit up as she entered; Victoria suppressed a smile. Relief washed through her, but it would not do to be so obvious. Her guests bowed and curtseyed as she moved to greet each one; it was the happiest she’d felt in days.

Emma watched her friend move about the room, interacting with her guests. She spent time with everyone; although Emma could not help but notice that she gave Albert little more than a perfunctory hello. The Duchess tried to keep her daughter engaged, but Victoria simply moved on. Emma thought the Queen was doing a good job of keeping her attention _off_ the most important person in the room, though she knew how much it meant that Melbourne chose to attend.

“Victoria looks much happier than before,” Killian observed.

Emma looked at him, feeling slightly guilty. “I, uh, may have given them a moment earlier today.”

Killian looked surprised. “Did you now?”

“Yeah. Anything’s better than spending time with Captain Cardboard over there.”

Killian suppressed a grin. His Swan certainly had a way with words. “The Prince is a bit…intense,” he conceded.

“Boring and chauvinistic,” Emma corrected. “Who the hell does he think he is?”

“Swan, you know this world is not as…enlightened as the one we come from.”

“Or the one you come from,” Emma teased.

“Oi!”

“I’m just teasing, babe.” She leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth. “You were an equal opportunity pirate.”

Killian feigned offense, clenching and unclenching his jaw. Emma toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Perhaps later you could remind me,” she whispered in his ear. Killian smirked at her, all too eager for her challenge. He cupped the back of her head and kissed her deeply, ignoring everyone else. Part of him wanted to march them back to their suite, but the wait would be half the fun. A small string band played in the corner; people were slowly beginning to dance. Ernest twirled the Duchess of Sutherland across the floor; Killian saw no reason not to join them. He bowed slightly before his wife and held out his hand. “Shall we, love?”

Emma nodded. “Um, yeah. Why not?”

He beamed as he led her out; she was beautiful in a deep purple dress. Their very first dance had been a waltz, just like this. They fell into step easily; as always, she was a natural. She looked every inch the princess, with a tiara in her hair and diamonds around her throat. She was the greatest treasure he’d found in any realm, with or without her borrowed jewels and gown. His Swan. His love. His wife.

Victoria smiled to herself as she watched her friends enjoy themselves. She was so grateful to Emma for her support and advice. Occasionally, she let her gaze drift to Lord M, wondering if he would ask her to dance. Victoria loved dancing; he was the greatest partner she’d ever had. Propriety kept her from asking him to dance; she would simply have to be patient.

He was worth it.

“That is a lovely flower.”

Victoria took a breath to steady herself. Mama probably put Albert up to it. It would not do to be rude; he was still family. Perhaps he was only trying to be polite. “Thank you, Albert.”

“Such flowers are not typical this time of year, I don’t think?”

“No, they are not. It was a gift.”

Albert shifted awkwardly, clearly at a loss. “It is quite an extraordinary gift,” he observed.

“From an extraordinary person,” Victoria replied, unable to keep the smile from her lips.

Albert saw her gaze drift once again toward Melbourne. What hold did the old man have over his young impressionable cousin? He was beginning to see what uncle Leopold had warned him about. He did not know how to court a lady, but he knew his duty. Victoria liked to dance, perhaps he could try that. Albert cleared his throat. “Might I…”

Melbourne appeared at her side. “I believe I was promised a dance, Ma’am?”

Victoria struggled not to let her relief show. She made a show of checking her card, then nodded. “Why, yes, Lord M, I believe you do.” She accepted his hand and relaxed as he led her out onto the floor. She fit perfectly in his arms, his hand warm at her back. “Thank you for the flowers. They are beautiful as always.”

“You are quite welcome, Ma’am. The glass houses at Brocket Hall are always at your service.”

They gazed into each other’s eyes, green on blue, oblivious to all else. Neither noticed the jilted prince brooding in the corner, his future slipping away right before his eyes. Something had to be done.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to everyone who's commented on this! I don't always reply as often as I should, but all your kind words are appreciated!

She was going to scream! If she had to listen to her mother extoll the virtues of Albert or bemoan how unfair she was being to Uncle Leopold one more time, she would not be responsible for her actions. Victoria did not understand how her mother could continue to persist in her mad scheme. How much clearer could she be? Victoria had no intention of marrying her cousin. She would not be coerced into marriage, period.

She was the Queen of England and she was done being bullied.

“Victoria?”

Victoria sighed with relief. It was just Emma. “Come in.”

Emma pushed open the door. “Hiding out?”

“Waiting for Lord M.”

Emma grinned knowingly. “Hiding. Your secret is safe.”

Victoria tossed away the pillow she was holding. “Is it so very vile to have a dislike of one’s own mother?”

Emma settled at the other end of the window seat, smoothing out her skirts. She still hated wearing a corset—she would give a limb for some jeans—but she was getting more confident in this princess gig. Killian seemed to be getting a kick out it, at any rate. He took great joy in dressing and _un_ dressing her.

She looked over at her friend. “My mom and I haven’t always gotten along either.” She glanced toward the door, double checking that they were alone. “Yours is…persistent. But you’re entitled to your feelings, Victoria.”

“Did yours try to control every moment of your life?”

Emma looked surprised. “My mom? No. I was pretty…independent.” Victoria wasn’t aware that Emma didn’t even know who her mother was until she was twenty eight. The truth was a little _too_ weird. “But there was one time. She…thought I still had feelings for someone from my past. She tried to encourage me to give him another chance, even though I didn’t want to.”

“Killian was not your first love?”

Emma shook her head. “I was young, younger than you are now.” She chose her next words carefully, wanting to keep to the spirit of what happened if not the letter. “Sixteen. I met someone. I thought he cared about me, but I was young and foolish. He left, without a word.” Neal’s abandonment didn’t have the sting it once did, but it left a scar. “It took me a long time to trust anyone again.”

Victoria bit her lip. “Do you think I’m young and foolish?”

Emma’s brow knitted. “Young but not foolish. No, I think you’ve always known what you wanted. I kinda envy that.”

“You do?”

Emma twirled the ring on her finger. “I didn’t give Killian the easiest time. When we first met…let’s just say it didn’t go well.”

“Is that where the persistence comes in?”

Emma laughed. “You could say that. But everything we went through was worth it in the end. We made it.”

“You seem so happy.”

“We are, but we have our disagreements. Little fights, about stupid things. But even then, we know we love each other. That’s never going to change.”

“I pray I am as happy as you one day.”

“Victoria, you will. You just have to fight for what you know will make you happy.”

“I plan on it.”

Emma had a thought. “Maybe a change of scene would help? Help get some of your guests out from underfoot?”

Victoria’s eyes lit up. “Emma, that’s brilliant! Albert’s always complaining about lack of trees in London; we could go to Windsor! Then he could see all the trees his heart desires!”

“And stay out of your hair?” Emma said knowingly.

“I said no such thing, Emma,” Victoria said with all the dignity she could muster. But her mask only lasted for a moment. Both women broke out in giggles, quite pleased with their little scheme.

Victoria was in a much better mood when she left for her private audience with Lord M. Now that she’d found a way to keep her guests occupied, she felt like she could breathe. It would be difficult for Mama to coerce her into spending time with Albert if he was galivanting all over Windsor Great Park!

She was still smiling when Lord M was announced. She drank him in as he approached, then knelt to kiss her hand. With the door firmly shut, his lips lingered much longer than they should have, and Victoria’s heart thrilled. He truly did seem to be embracing this intrigue between them. As much as she longed to demonstrate her love for him openly, she relished these private moments. In that time, he was William and she was Victoria.

Melbourne stood, his gaze moving over her person. She wore a plain blue gown, simple for a queen, but she still was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. There was just something about her. “Ma’am,” he said formally.

“Hello, Lord M. I trust you are well.”

“Quite well, Ma’am. Busy, as always.”

“Are the Tories causing you so much trouble?”

Melbourne laughed. “The Tories, Ma’am? No, it is my own party that is experiencing a bit of a disunity. But all shall work itself out.” He tried to play it off as a joke, but the stakes were very high. The time he spent with the Queen—in flagrant defiance of the Prince’s obvious suit for her hand—was beginning to be remarked upon by his own supporters. No one would speak to him openly about it, but he had his suspicions. A few up and comers were already beginning to jockey for position, ready to step in as leader should his government fall. Even now, he was trying to subtly lay the groundwork for his eventual resignation, in the event that Victoria did indeed manage to propose to him. Part of him still thought the whole thing was daft, but he knew how determined she could be. He loved her so much; he didn’t have it in him to fight her any longer.

She wanted to be his.

Victoria’s brow creased with worry, but she quickly shook it off. Lord M knew what he was doing. “Shall we see to the boxes then?”

“If you are not too busy entertaining your guests?”

Victoria struggled not to roll here eyes. It was not queenly. “I believe my cousins have gone on another tour of the city today, Lord M. We shall not be disturbed.”

“Quite.” He offered her a little knowing smirk as they took to their usual places. They worked well together, knowing each other so well by now that they could anticipate one another. He often had the answer to a question before she could ask it. His Victoria was gaining quite a head for politics, even if she favored the Whigs a tad more than she ought. He would need to see to that once he was no longer her Prime Minister.

How foolish was he? Casually imagining a time when he would be at her side, as consort and not politician! It felt like madness, but these days he found himself embracing a wee bit of madness. Would they be as close then? He did not see why not, but then again, he knew what she did not. Marriages—even those where the partners have the best of intentions—were hard. His first collapsed entirely; part of him was fearful of opening himself up like that again. And yet…he loved her with his whole heart. In a way he’d never quite loved Caro. It was somewhat shameful, but there it was. This little queen had utterly mastered him, hardly lifting a finger to do it.

He would do everything within his power to make her happy.

Victoria studied him out of the corner of her eye. He looked pensive. “Lord M? Are you alright?”

“Indeed, Ma’am. Quite well.”

Still, she was not satisfied. “You looked a bit out of sorts just now. Have I…done something?”

“You, Ma’am? Certainly not. These audiences have long been the highlight of some very trying days.”

She bit her lip, worried. “Trying?”

“Not because of you, Ma’am. Never because of you.” No, not even during that infernal Bedchamber Crisis where she tried to very hard to keep him. As a devotee of the English constitution, he’d been aghast, but the man inside was very touched by her efforts. It only made him fall more helplessly in love with her.

Victoria looked up at him with those huge blue eyes. “I know that I am sometimes very…demanding of your time, Lord M. And as my friend you have been very generous. I hope in the future…” She smiled a little, hopeful of what that future could be. “You will not hesitate to take time for yourself, should you need it.”

Did she not know his very happiest times were in her presence? Still, he could see this was important to her. If they married, she would still be his Queen. But he would be her husband. It was a very fine line to walk, one he wasn’t sure the German princeling had the patience to navigate. Melbourne had long since lost what little ego he possessed, hence his willingness to be at her side always.

“I’m afraid I have very little in my life that interests me, Ma’am.”

“What about your flowers? Or your books?”

“Yes, well, those are interests that could be shared.”

“I would never ask you to give up Brocket Hall, Lord M,” she said passionately. “It is a very fine house.”

“Very quaint, you mean.”

“No! I have not seen as much of it as I would like, but perhaps one day I will?”

He nodded. “One day, Ma’am. I promise.” Melbourne couldn’t stop himself from imagining bringing Victoria back to Brocket Hall. As its mistress. He turned his attention back to the box, mentally steeling himself when he saw the seal on the letter. “It’s from King Leopold.”

Victoria looked surprised. “What could he want? I was very clear!”

“Perhaps he wishes to beg your forgiveness?”

Victoria scowled. “Does that sound like my uncle to you, Lord M?”

“No, I’m afraid not.”

“I do not wish to read anything he has to say. Unless he is prepared to set aside his ambitions, we have nothing left to say to him.” She invoked the royal we, reinforcing that it was the Queen Leopold had offended and not simply his niece. “We will not be bullied, Lord M.”

Melbourne successfully maintained his impassive mask, but he was secretly quite proud. His Victoria could be willful and stubborn, but in this they agreed. Leopold could want nothing good. His sole focus was making his nephew consort and increasing his own power. Melbourne slipped the letter back into the box, unopened.

They worked in harmony for another hour before Victoria remembered herself. “Lord M, we are planning on removing to Windsor on the morrow. I hope you will be able to join us?”

Melbourne was surprised. “Windsor, Ma’am? I thought you did not favor it?”

“It is a bit draughty, but the park is lovely.”

“The park, Ma’am?”

“For my cousins. They’re longing for a bit of home. I would maintain my schedule and duties, of course.” She glanced at him pointedly. Her meaning was suddenly clear. She was not abandoning him. She wanted him by her side, just as always.

“Indeed, Ma’am. I shall do my best to attend you.”

It wasn’t the promise she wanted, but it was enough. “I am pleased to hear it, Lord M.” The moment lingered, but it quickly became apparent that they could no longer extend the audience. A removal to Windsor was time consuming; she had yet to issue the necessary orders. Still, she was reluctant to part from him. Impulsively, she stretched out her hand, curling her fingers around his. Melbourne went very still, her skin very warm and soft, her grip strong. It felt like days since they’d touched, even though it had been only a day or so. Their tryst in the wake of the cousins’ arrival was never far from his thoughts. He could still taste her, if he thought about it too much.

And he did want to think about it. And relive it as soon as possible.

Melbourne took her fingers between his, stroking her soft supple skin. Victoria’s heart raced, his touch sliding over her wrist. Could he feel her racing pulse? See the desire burning just under the surface? She looked up at him through her lashes, trying to read his handsome face. His emerald eyes seared her, rooting her to the spot. Her breathing hitched as he brought her hand to his lips, peppering the back of it with featherlight kisses. It was exciting and frustrating all at once. Why didn’t he kiss her properly? Did he not know how much she longed for him?

Victoria was about to speak, when a look from Lord M silenced her. His intense gaze made her heart trip in her chest; she could not look away. She did not want to look away. Her breath fluttered, her body trembled. He released her hand and cupped her head, tilting her face up. Victoria’s eyes closed instinctively, her whole being humming with anticipation. When his lips touched hers, she reached for him, curling her fingers into his jacket.

It was the sweetest torture. Melbourne wrapped his arms around her, drawing her close to him, pressing her soft curves into his body. Victoria mewled, opening for him eagerly. Her back banged into the desk as he pushed her against it, but she hardly felt it. Nothing could feel more exhilarating than her lover’s lips on hers. Her knees weakened as his tongue stroked hers, stoking the fire in her belly. Longing like she’d never known clawed its way through her; she needed him like she’d never needed anything in her life.

“William, William,” she gasped, sinking her fingers into his hair. He threatened to overwhelm her, and she was very, very willing.

Melbourne broke the kiss with a soft gasp, his heart pounding. This was beyond dangerous; they were in the middle of the palace! Only Victoria’s well known habit of seeing her ministers privately kept interlopers away. It courted scandal!

He peppered her tender throat with kisses, breathing in her heady scent. How easy it would be! She was ripe for the picking, willing and eager. If he asked it of her, she would give herself. He knew she would. That was why they must not. Not yet. Perhaps not ever, but he could not think on that now. Not when she was so, so close. “What have you done to me, Victoria?”

“Say you’ll come to Windsor,” she pleaded, coaxing his lips back to hers. “Please, William.”

He kissed her hard, drawn to her passion. “Yes, darling. I will come.”

She kissed him back, thankful for his acquiescence. She only wanted him. She prayed that Albert would soon see that there was no hope, that she would never be his. Victoria’s heart belonged to another. Always.

 

* * *

 

“Oh, Emma, you look lovely!” Victoria hurried over to her friend, pleased that her gift was well received. “Skerrett did a wonderful job.”

“Thank you for sparing her. Killian usually helps me.” Emma flushed a little, wondering just how to the relatively innocent queen would take that.

“You don’t have a maid?”

“Not really. I like doing things for myself.”

“Or with the help of your captain?”

Emma laughed. “Yeah, something like that.”

“I’m so pleased you like the gown. It was a gift, but a bit too large for me. I did not have the heart to have it altered.”

“It’s beautiful.” Pale gold and flowing, the gown exposed her shoulders and throat, revealing more skin than she was used to, outside of going to be beach or the bedroom. Although, to be fair, she lived in Maine. Spring and summer were relatively short there. Storybrooke didn’t have sandy white beaches or anything. A couple of years ago, Emma and Killian took a summer holiday down the coast, sailing the _Jolly_ to the Caribbean. During that trip, he became very well acquainted with modern swimwear, something they both enjoyed.

“I am sorry to deprive you of your husband, but I promise it will be worth it,” Victoria reminded her.

“Yeah, what’s up with that anyway?”

Victoria’s eyes lit up and grew a little dreamy. “Why the Windsor uniform, of course.”

“What?”

“My grandfather created it. All the men of the court wear them when attending the monarch at Windsor.”

“All the time?”

“No, we usually reserve it for the evening.”

Emma tilted her head. “You’re very fond of this uniform, aren’t you?”

Victoria colored. “Am I that obvious?”

“Just a little.” Emma could get away with being so forthright with the queen, one of the advantages of playing up her status as a princess. Still, it would be nice to get home. She missed her life. Part of her still felt guilty for enjoying her time in this place, especially when they still did not have a sure way home. The two women moved about the room arm in arm, greeting the other guests. The other Emma, Lady Portman, shared a smirk with Emma; both noticed the way Victoria kept glancing at the double doors, awaiting the men.

“She should not stare so,” Lady Portman whispered to Emma as Victoria went to exchange greetings with Harriet. “It’s not seemly.”

“She is the Queen,” Emma reasoned. “Is it so wrong that she has someone she cares about?” Emma wasn’t sure if Lady Portman was as in the know about Victoria’s feelings for her Prime Minister, so she hoped she wasn’t confiding out of turn.

Lady Portman’s face softened. “I can think of no one more worthy than William.”

So, she did know. That was good. Victoria needed more people on her side. It struck Emma that Lady Portman used Lord Melbourne’s given name. She’d never even heard Victoria use it. Of course, Lady Portman was older. “Have you known Lord Melbourne a long time?”

“Oh, heavens yes. We’ve been friends for years.” A wistful look washed over her features. “He deserves to be happy.”

“They both do.”

Lady Portman stared at her for a long moment, then nodded. “Agreed, Your Highness.”

“Please. Emma.”

Lady Portman curtseyed. “It is a lovely name.”

Emma smiled at her new friend. “Yeah, it is. My mother picked it out.”

“So did mine.”

Emma was starting to get restless. And hungry. With all the traveling and bustle, she hadn’t been able to eat a proper meal since they left Buckingham Palace. That said, with all the rich food they were eating as royal guests, Emma was half afraid she’d put on some weight! Being Storybrooke’s sheriff kept her busy at home; she never felt like she had to work that hard to stay fit. She liked to run a couple of times a week; Killian had taken to running with her. No way to do that as a princess!

She was about to ask how much longer the men would be when the doors opened. Some lesser nobles stepped through, looking mildly uncomfortable. Emma thought she could see why. The uniform that Victoria was so enamored with looked a bit old fashioned in her opinion. Breeches. Stockings. A blue coat with heavy and elaborate gold braid, trimmed with even more gold. Some surreptitiously scratched at the high collar, carefully avoiding the Queen’s gaze. Victoria paid no attention, waiting for her Lord M.

Where was he? It was not like Lord M to keep her waiting. Victoria twisted her hands together, the only sign she betrayed of her anticipation. She glanced at a nearby clock, then back. Suddenly, he was there, looking very splendid in his uniform. Good lord, he was handsome! Victoria’s breath quickened as she watched him approach. He gave her one of those tiny heart stopping smiles that he saved just for her, just before he knelt to kiss her hand. Much more fleeting and proper than their private audiences, but she appreciated nonetheless.

“Ma’am.”

“We are so pleased the House could spare you, Lord M.”

“Good company is infinitely more agreeable than tedious debate,” he joked.

Every eye was drawn to the striking couple. Victoria looked radiant in deep purple, a gown very similar to Emma’s in style. Seeing them together, Emma began to realize why Victoria was so drawn to the uniform. Melbourne wore it well. Anyone who didn’t know him well would believe he was mildly bemused but not overly interested in anything around him, but Emma knew better. His eyes kept darting to Victoria, letting his guard slip just a fraction to reveal the lovesick man within.

Emma was not the only one who noticed. The German princes had entered—also in the uniform, but not wearing it nearly as well—yet no one aside from Harriet or the Duchess was paying them much attention. Ernest appeared quite happy to have Harriet’s attentions all to himself. Albert, on the other hand, looked thunderous. He wouldn’t stop glaring at Victoria, like it was _her_ fault that he was boorish and rude about just about everything he saw. Emma knew he didn’t like _her_ very much, but she didn’t care.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Emma almost jumped out of her skin. “Killian!” she hissed, turning on her heel. She was about to scold him for scaring the crap out of her, but she came up short. Her eyes widened as she drank him in. Oh. _Oh._ She swallowed as she looked him up and down; it was almost like she was seeing him for the first time.

Killian grinned broadly, thoroughly amused by her reaction. Emma liked to pretend she didn’t find him attractive, but he knew her well. It was simply on her quirks, one that he’d come to love. It made _these_ moments possible, ones that left her thoroughly dumbstruck. He reasoned it was only fair, since she did the same for him every single day. “You were saying, love?”

Emma scowled, caught. “Don’t talk.”

“Well, that might be a tad awkward at dinner.”

She laughed in spite of herself. “Don’t get all sensible on me now, Captain.”

“Never.” He tugged a bit on the cuff of his jacket; it was a tad too small to cover his brace. Emma noticed his fidget and quickly waved her hand over the material. In a flash, it fit perfectly. “Thanks.”

Emma kissed his cheek. “No problem, babe.”

“So…you like it? This get up is certainly…interesting.”

Emma half shrugged, trying to play it cool. “It’s fine.”

He slipped his arm around her waist. “You, my darling princess, look incredible.”

She struggled to suppress a shiver; it was difficult when he used _that_ tone. Damn him for knowing just how to get to her. Not to mention he looked fucking _fantastic_ in the uniform. Emma totally got why Victoria loved it so much. Worn properly, it was quite striking. “Borrowed gown.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He kissed her temple; warmth flowed all the way to her toes. “I missed you today.”

“Hmm, me too.”

“Although, it was almost worth it to see the look on your face just now.”

“There was no look.”

“There absolutely was, wife. Kid yourself if you must. Your devilishly handsome husband knows better.”

She wanted to roll her eyes and argue some more, but it was pointless and they both knew it. He was right; she would admit it. Later. When she was peeling that uniform off his strong toned body.

Dinner was announced not long after; Emma thought the Duchess had gotten into the seating arrangements. Albert sat beside the Queen; Emma saw how her friend’s face fell just a little before she managed to plaster on a smile. Emma felt so bad for her; why didn’t Albert just give up? It was painfully obvious that Victoria didn’t care for him as a potential husband. They fought all the time!

It was every bit as trying as Victoria expected. Once she realized that Albert was to be her nearest dinner companion rather than Emma or Lord M, it took all her regal self-control to be pleasant. Albert droned on about his visit to some of London’s museums through three courses before he realized that he wasn’t engaging her interest.

“We, ah…I also explored some of the underprivileged districts,” he said. “It was quite appalling the conditions. Why does no one do anything to help improve their lives? I’ve been a great admirer of Mister Dickens; it seems he has been right all along.”

“It is a thorny problem, to be sure, Your Serene Highness,” Melbourne cut in. “One that most are not interested in solving.”

Albert seemed to ignore this. “Victoria, I’m sure you’ve read Mister Dickens’ work.”

“Yes, I have, Albert. I find his stories most affecting!”

“Mister Dickens speaks a great deal about the problems of the world,” Melbourne said flatly. “Yet he does not propose any solutions.”

Albert turned to the Prime Minster at last, clearly unhappy. “As the leader of the government, isn’t there something that can be done?”

“A great deal, Your Serene Highness,” Melbourne said, not appreciating the young man’s tone, but keeping his voice as pleasant as possible. He must not be seen to be antagonizing the Prince. His reasonable nature served him well in politics for many years. “However, in a democratic system, it is difficult to get people to agree on what should be done.”

“Are all politicians as flip about child labor and hunger in the streets, my lord?”

Stunned silence fell. Victoria turned on Albert, aghast at his behavior. How dare he? Did he think she didn’t know the conditions in her own country? She was Queen, not him! As for insulting Lord M… “Albert! I will not have such disrespect at the dinner table. Apologize to Lord M!”

“Victoria, I am only trying to get you to see…”

“I will not have such distressing talk at my table,” she said imperiously. “Please do as I ask.”

There was a long pause; finally, Albert turned back to Melbourne. “I apologize if I offended you, my lord. It was not my intention.”

Melbourne knew it was exactly his intention, but he let it pass. He always did. “No offense taken, Your Serene Highness.”

The atmosphere was awkward and stilted after that. Emma shared a look with Killian, but he shrugged. There wasn’t anything they could do, aside from observing. He didn’t like Albert either, but Victoria needed to fight this battle on her own. Everyone seemed surprised when Victoria spoke again. “Ernest, I hope you and Albert will avail yourselves of the park while you are visiting?”

Ernest recovered quickly, nodding and smiling pleasantly. “Of course, cousin. Perhaps you would be so kind as to go riding with us?”

The only person she wanted to go riding with was Lord M! “If my duties allow. One never stops being Queen, you know.”

Melbourne watched the exchange with bated breath. It was obvious who Ernest meant when he said “us.” Melbourne had to give him credit; he was doing a far better job of wooing the Queen than Albert was. It was equally reassuring to see Victoria stand up for herself, even if she was using her duties as a shield.

“Surely Lord Melbourne could spare you for one afternoon,” Albert said, glaring pointedly at the older man. He simply did not understand why Victoria was so enamored with him. For a politician, he didn’t seem very serious. Most unsuitable to be running a country in Albert’s opinion. It was something he would rectify after his marriage.

“Lord Melbourne does not need to ‘spare’ me, Albert,” Victoria snapped. “I am the Queen, he serves at _my_ pleasure! As do all my ministers. Do not speak of things you do not understand!” Victoria stood abruptly, causing everyone at the table to flinch and hurriedly follow. She was done. She could not sit beside Albert any longer. Men and women bowed and curtsied as she strode from the room, her head held high. She’d planned on having a small dance after dinner, but she was no longer in the mood. Albert made her so _angry_! How dare he speak to her like that! He was as bad as Uncle Leopold! He did not believe she could be a good queen, that she was not fit! Why else would he want to marry her? He certainly did not seem to care for her person or her feelings. All he did was criticize and scold!

How could she marry someone who did not respect her? Not even as a Queen, but as a _person?_ Whenever she was forced to spend time with Albert, she felt like she was back in Kensington. Only Sir John was now Albert, come to “save” her from herself. Like she did not have a mind or reason of her own. Like she was _weak._

Victoria would never be weak again.

Melbourne did not think. He did not stop to consider appearances as he went to follow her. It was clear that Victoria was upset and hurt; he needed to see her. Let people talk. He no longer cared. All he cared about was _her._

It took longer than he expected. Windsor was an old castle, much older than Buckingham Palace. It was easy to get lost. He found her in the last place he expected, the sitting room of the consort’s apartment. Apartments that had been unused since the old king’s death. The Queen Dowager mostly lived at Marlborough House, visiting court rarely when her health allowed. All the furniture was covered in white cloth; it was completely dark save the moonlight. He would have passed it by had he not spotted her familiar silhouette against the glass.

He had to give her credit; this was likely the last place anyone would look for her.

Still, he entered cautiously. “Ma’am?”

Victoria unclenched her fists and spun around. “Lord M?”

He shut the door behind him. “Victoria. Are you alright?”

She wanted to nod. She did not want her precious Lord M to believe she was weak. Yet she needed his strength and guidance. “Is being a woman such a crime? Why does everyone believe I can not think for myself or make my own decisions?”

“The world is not as enlightened as we would wish it to be, Ma’am,” he said quietly. He could see her face in the moonlight; the hurt he saw there tore at his heart. “Yet we should not run away from it.”

“He just makes me so angry! I expect such things from Mama. From Uncle Leopold, even. But Albert…he only believes me to be a silly girl, easily swayed.”

“You are hardly easily swayed, Ma’am.”

“He thinks I’m swayed by you.”

“As does most of the country,” Melbourne said drily. They’d had this discussion many times. It was one of the reasons their feelings were so very dangerous. The monarch was supposed to be objective, favoring no party. It was how the Constitution worked best. “It has not stopped you yet.”

She smiled. “No, it has not.” _Never show them how hard it is to bear._ He’d told her that once, revealing a precious piece of himself to do it. She was so thankful she had him on her side. “And it will not.”

“Does this mean you will return to your guests?”

“On one condition.”

“That would be?”

“Dance with me.”

“Victoria…”

“I do not care, William! I will be civil to Albert. I will even dance if he asks! I will play the hostess. But all of that is easier with you near.”

Melbourne glanced out the window. “What are we doing, Victoria?”

She reached out and laid her hand on his arm. It felt like a brand. “We are making due, William. Albert can not stay here forever. Once he and Ernest have gone, I will do everything in my power to ensure these rooms have a different occupant.”

He covered her hand with his, squeezing her fingers lightly. “I do not wish to be something you regret.”

She looked confused. “Regret? William, I do not regret a single moment. Not one. I have two desires in this world. Both involve you.”

He smiled. “And what would those be, Your Majesty?”

She smiled back. “First, I want to be a great queen.”

“You already are, with little to no help from me.”

“The second,” she continued pointedly, “is to be your wife.” She moved their hands, sliding flesh over flesh until their palms were aligned. His was so much larger than hers; she wanted to know how those hands felt on her bare skin. “And learn all that can be between a husband and wife.”

How could he resist her? So earnest and pure, loving shining in her eyes. Melbourne ducked and brushed his lips over hers, just the briefest touch. A whisper. An affirmation. For he too wanted that. More than anything. “Not yet.”

“But soon.”

“Yes, soon.”

Their longing gazes lingered for a few moments, then Victoria swept from the room. Melbourne waited a good ten minutes before following her. Even then, he took a meandering path back, to allay suspicion. When he arrived, Victoria was speaking quietly with Albert, who at least appeared to be somewhat contrite. The Duchess was watching too and shot him a triumphant look. He betrayed no emotion, even as the music began, and Victoria took a turn on the floor with her cousin.

“It seems you’ve harnessed the tempest, William.”

Melbourne scoffed. “Hardly, Emma. The Queen is not so easily mollified.”

Lady Portman glanced at the dancing couple. “To the untrained eye, she seems quite content.”

“Ah, but your eye is not untrained.”

“No, William. It is not.” She looked up at him. “What did you do?”

“Who says I did something?”

“We all saw you go flying after her.”

He glanced around to make sure no one was near. “I did very little. The Queen simply needed a few moments to collect herself. The Prince was rather rude. Impolitic in the wooing of a lady, I’ve found.”

“You have no need of wooing, William. That girl has been yours from the moment she met you.”

“I refused her once, you know.”

“I know. And yet, you are still here.”

“I am the Prime Minister.”

“But not forever, William.”

“No, not forever.” He did not think he would miss politics all that much. He was getting too old for it anyway. “We have…an understanding. That is all.”

“I thought as much. I am happy for you, William. Everyone deserves to be loved.”

“Her most of all.”

Albert got his dance, but that was all. Just one. After getting some refreshment, Victoria danced once with Ernest, then with Killian. She kept glancing at William, wondering when he would fulfill his promise. She did not have to wait long. The musician struck up another waltz and suddenly Lord M was there, handsome as ever, asking her to dance. She accepted gladly. They danced the next three together, along with Emma and Killian. It was truly magical. Victoria was very sad when the evening ended, yet pleased that something happy had been salvaged.

Melbourne was surprised to see a page outside his rooms. “Yes?”

“A message for you, my lord.”

Melbourne accepted the envelope and went into his rooms to read it. His valet already had some candles burning, thankfully. The man would be there any moment, if years of faithful service were any indication. Who would be sending him a message so late at night?

_Melbourne,_

_I have news on the Queen’s would be assassin. Please come to Dover House with all haste. We must meet._

_Peel_

Melbourne’s heart pounded. The Queen’s attacker? He remembered all too well the terror he felt when she’d been shot at; his first duty was her safety. If Peel had something about the man, then Melbourne needed to know. He refolded the letter and shoved it in his pocket. There was no time to change. He needed to get back to town immediately.

As if by magic, his valet entered. “Hunter, I need a carriage. Right now.”

“Now, sir?” The man couldn’t have looked more shocked if Melbourne had said that the sky was orange.

“Yes. Now.”

The man hurried off. Melbourne considered trying to see Victoria, but he had nothing definitive to tell her. Surely, he would be back by morning. It was shaping up to be a very late night, but she was worth it. She was always worth it.

He had to do everything in his power to keep her safe.

 

* * *

 

“Sir?”

“Where is Sir Robert? Has he arrived yet?” Melbourne was exhausted; the drive back to Dover House from Windsor was long, even late at night.

The butler looked confused. Melbourne noticed he was still in his nightclothes. “Sir Robert Peel? No, sir, he’s not here. Should we be expecting him?”

That was odd. “Ah, yes. I’ve had an urgent message from him. He should be here momentarily. Ensure we are not disturbed.” Melbourne moved into his study; it was the most private room in the house. He did not bother to wait for a servant, he poured some brandy for himself and took a long pull. He was frightened. It wasn’t that difficult to admit, but he’d never known fear quite like this. Losing Victoria like he had lost Caro would destroy him. He needed her safe.

He was enough of a realist to know that his Queen was a public figure. Hell, _he_ was a public figure. And yet, no one was shooting at him. What if Captain Jones and Emma hadn’t been there? What if Victoria had been harmed?  Or worse? He did not give a damn about the Duke of Cumberland becoming king; the nation had had bad kings before. No, Victoria’s loss would be personal. She was more than simply his Queen.

She was his whole world.

“I see the Windsor uniform has not changed a bit.”

Melbourne turned, shocked. King Leopold of the Belgians stood in his study, bold as brass, as if he and not Melbourne were master of the house. “How did you get in here?”

Leopold smiled benignly. “Is that how the urbane Viscount Melbourne speaks to an anointed king?”

“No, that is how I speak to trespassers on my property.”

“There’s no need for unpleasantness, my lord. What I have to say is brief.”

“The Queen has banished you from court. As her most loyal servant, I’m asking you to leave while she still has some familial feeling for you.”

“Ah yes. Loyalty. That is something my niece possesses in spades. She has been quite…faithful to you, my lord. Often to her detriment. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“The Queen has never been one to be dictated to. She’s quite within her rights to do as she pleases. She is the Queen of this great nation.” How much of Leopold’s attitude stemmed from bitterness? Melbourne often wondered. It was true the Leopold once had genuine feelings for Victoria’s cousin, Charlotte. Yet that did not change the fact that he was in the same position then as Albert was now. A younger son of a small German house with no real prospect of ruling anywhere. To be the Queen of England’s consort was quite a step up from near obscurity. When Charlotte died, all hope of that was lost. Being King of the Belgians was a poor replacement for almost being King of England.

“My niece is little more than a child. Easily led. Easily…corrupted.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve seen the way she looks at you,” Leopold said, still appearing calm. “I’ve seen the way you look at her. You’re in love with her.”

There was no point in denying it. Not here. Melbourne didn’t want to deny it. But he could not fathom why Leopold was telling him all of this. “Sir Robert’s not coming, is he?”

“No. He was most helpful in arranging this little meeting. I felt it was time for you and I to talk. This farce with Victoria has gone on long enough.”

“She’s not one of your dogs, Leopold. You can’t order her about. She is her own mistress.”

“She belongs with Albert. Surely, even you can see this. What do you think would happen if she married you? She would lose her throne. The people would never stand for it! She must be married to someone of royal blood.”

“King Edward and King James would disagree with you.”

Leopold scoffed. “If I remember my history, Edward’s son was never crowned. Might even have been a bastard.”

“His daughter was though. As was Queen Mary. And Queen Anne. No one cared who their mothers were.”

“She is vibrant and young. You will leave her a widow!”

“Your precious Albert could leave her a widow as well! None of us are guaranteed a long life, Your Majesty.” He did not lose his temper often, but Melbourne was reaching his limit. First Albert, now his uncle. Leopold had interfered in England’s affairs for too long.

“Better he die young and get an heir on her than you!”

“Is that all she is to you? A brood mare for your schemes? She is the Queen of England!”

Leopold was finished. If this man would not see reason, he would have to play his final card. “Even queens must do their duty. And if they do not, they should be removed from power. For their own good, of course. Her family does have a…history, as you know.”

Melbourne simply stared at the man. Leopold could not be saying what he thought he was saying. No one was that cruel. Not even the Duke of Cumberland. “You wouldn’t try to disinherit your own niece.”

“Not until she’s given Albert a son. He can rule in the child’s name until he comes of age.”

“She won’t marry Albert. You know that.”

Leopold smiled. It was one of the cruelest things Melbourne had ever seen. “Once she is no longer distracted, she will do as she is bid. Good can come from heartbreak, as I’m sure you know, Lord Melbourne.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I asked you once before to step aside, my lord. You did not heed me. Now I’m afraid more drastic measures are necessary.” Leopold drew himself up to his full height. “If you do not forsake her, I will ruin her. Everyone already believes the two of you are far too close; it will not take much to ensure people believe that something…criminal has passed between you. Your reputation is not spotless, sir.”

“You would destroy your own family to get what you want?”

“What I want is for the good of England. England will be in good hands with Albert.”

“Leaving Victoria yoked to a nursery?”

“As it should be.”

“Go to hell.”

“I thought you might say that.” Leopold pulled something from his pocket. It looked like a newspaper. It was dated for the next day. _MRS MELBOURNE’S FOLLY._ He scanned the so-called article; blood seemed to drain from his body. At first, he almost thought that Leopold _knew_ exactly what had transpired between himself and Victoria, but the details were all wrong. Wrong but close enough. Too close. It was completely scurrilous, salacious and disgusting. But Melbourne knew the people would believe it.

If Victoria lost the love of her subjects, she was finished. She would lose her crown. She would lose the freedom she’d worked so hard to achieve. It would break her spirit. It would break _her_ , his precious darling Victoria.

He could not allow it. Not so long as he drew breath.

Leopold was ruthless. His attempt to discredit Princess Emma was proof of that. Melbourne had underestimated Leopold then. He could not afford to make the same mistake again. Victoria’s safety depended on it.

Melbourne handed the rag of a newspaper back to Leopold. “I can not resign right away. There would be talk.”

“I’ll leave the details up to you, Melbourne.  Just make sure it’s done. Have a pleasant night.”

With that, he was gone.

Melbourne flopped down in his leather chair, exhausted and numb. What just happened? Had he just imagined the entire thing? Leopold in his house, threatening the thing Melbourne loved most? The man’s own flesh and blood? It was unfathomable. Not three hours ago, he and Victoria danced, her beaming smile lighting up his lonely world.

Now that light was gone.

He had to give her up. He _had_ to. He could not drag her down with him. She didn’t belong in the gutter with the trash. She was a queen. He was simply an unworthy subject.

Melbourne moved back to the decanter and poured himself another glass. It was going to be a very long night.

 

* * *

 

“How is she?”

Lady Portman shook her head. “Upset, but trying not to show it,” she replied. “Something’s happened with William, but she won’t say what.”

“I heard he left in the middle of the night. Does anyone know why?” It had been three days since the evening of dinner and dancing. At first, Emma didn’t think there was anything amiss; Melbourne was the Prime Minister. It wasn’t unheard of for him to be called away on urgent government business. But he stayed away. And the longer he stayed way, the more suspicious Emma became. It didn’t ring true to the man she knew.

Victoria wrote him, over and over, and received no response. Her letters came back unopened. That, more than anything else, convinced Emma that something was very, very wrong. She needed to find out what.

Lay Portman handed her a folded letter. “This is the letter he sent, right after he left. Do you think you can help?”

Emma nodded. “I’ll try my best.”

“Thank you, Emma.”

Emma took the letter back to her suite. Killian was waiting for her. Melbourne’s departure allowed them to spend more time together—Killian wasn’t at all fond of the German princelings—and they’d used the opportunity to continue to research a way home. Windsor was an old castle; there was a hum about the place that stuck Emma as faintly magical. It reminded her a lot of Camelot. There wasn’t an ancient magical tree with a wizard inside, but there was _something._ Since Victoria wasn’t monopolizing so much of her time, she got to spend it with Killian.

It was a blessing and a curse, as he was as incorrigible as ever. But she didn’t mind. It’s not like Victorian England had much of a nightlife. At least not at the castle. Not with Lord Melbourne gone.

“Swan. Finally.”

Emma was surprised, confusion clouding her features as he hugged her close. “What’s up, Killian?”

“I might have found something.”

“Really?”

“Aye.” But before she could ask, he slanted his lips over hers. Long years of instinct had her melting into him; he was extra affectionate when he was worried or troubled. Like he was still afraid of losing her.

“What’s got you so freaked out?”

“This.” He let her go long enough to hand her a heavy familiar looking book. It looked _exactly_ like one of the books from the Sorcerer’s house! Like the one that brought them here in the first place!

“Is this what I think it is?”

“You’re the sorceress, love. You tell me.”

She rolled her eyes at him, but she was already opening the book. The pages appeared blank. “Okay, that was anticlimactic.”

“What did you do before, love?”

“I don’t know! I just opened it and started reading. Then it transformed into a time traveling pit!”

He took her hand and guided them to the couch. She set the book down and curled into his side. She felt so useless. She was supposed to be the most powerful wielder of light magic, but she couldn’t seem to do anything to get them out of here. What if they were stuck here forever?

“Shhh, don’t think like that,” Killian soothed. “We’ll get home.”

“It’s been so long already,” she replied. “We don’t even know if anyone knows we’re missing.” The last time they time traveled the returned to the exact same time they left; no one had any idea they’d been gone. It wasn’t until Emma revealed the new and improved storybook that her parents realized that she and Killian were Prince Charles and Princess Leia.

“The Sheriff and her Deputy? Trust me, love. They’d know. I’ll bet you they’re working just as hard to find us.”

“I don’t make bets with pirates.”

He chuckled. “There’s my girl.”

“I miss home.”

“I do too.”

“Henry’s probably thrilled. He can eat all the Pop Tarts he wants.”

Killian shook his head, lovingly exasperated. “The things that boy eats…”

“Hey, not all of us grew up on the mackerel diet. Although, I’m going to have to do something when we get home. I’ve probably added ten pounds since we’ve been here.”

“Rubbish! You look bloody fantastic, Swan.”

“You love me. You’re not exactly Mr. Objective.”

“Neither are you. We’ve been dancing and riding almost every day since we arrived. Perfectly acceptable forms of that exercise you’re so fond of.” He slid his false hand over her hip. “As well as other forms of recreation.”

She saw him waggle his brows and she blushed. Okay, maybe she was being a little hard on herself. “I’m still running when we get back. Maybe some yoga too.”

“Do I need to strip you?” he countered. “Because I will.”

“No! I believe you.” She kissed his cheek. “But I wouldn’t mind some of that recreation. Later tonight.”

“Duly noted.” He cupped the back of her head and drew her lips to his. They made out slowly, no goal in mind. He simply loved kissing his wife. He loved the little sounds she made, the way her hands sank into his hair and tugged. Being with her was a new adventure, every time.

Emma hummed as he shifted them, so she was laying flat on the couch. Her skirts made it a bit cumbersome but feeling his weight above her was enough. She slid her hands under his jacket, relishing his warmth. He was always so warm. After being lonely and cold for so many years, it was no wonder _this_ man was her True Love.

“I thought you said later,” Killian murmured as he kissed his way down her throat.

“To hell with it,” she sighed, shivering as his scruff abraded her skin. She started pushing his jacket off, need curling in her belly. His mouth covered hers once more in a hungry kiss; heat bloomed from the inside out. “Killian.”

“Right here, darling.” He shoved at her skirts, frustrated by all the material. When he found her center at last, she was wet. “Bloody hell, I love how wet you get for me.”

“Hurry. God, just hurry!” It was intoxicating, having him like this. How many times had they enjoyed a quickie in the sheriff’s station, mostly clothed? They’d been together for years now and still couldn’t seem to get enough of each other.

“Naughty girl.” He flashed her a grin, his hand making quick work of her bodice, opening it so she could breathe properly. Her breasts spilled out of the corset, his lips curled around her nipple. Emma keened, bucking under him. “All mine.”

“Yes, yes,” she whined, reaching down, trying to open his pants. She managed it, fumbling with the unfamiliar fastenings. Once she finally got her hand around his cock, he groaned loudly.

“Fucking hell, woman.”

“I need you,” she said. “Right now.” She was still afraid they would never get home; she needed the familiar feel of him. She needed him to make her forget, just for a moment.

Killian grunted, shifting his weight so she could guide him in. Mutual moans of ecstasy filled the room as she stretched around his girth, his cock filling her to the brim. Emma wrapped her legs around his hips, dragging his mouth back to hers. They kissed sloppily as he took her with long deep strokes, her heels digging into his lower back. He could just imagine the sinful tableau they made, still mostly clothed, locked in the most intimate of embraces. “Emma, Emma, Emma.”

“More, Killian,” she pleaded, tightening her legs. “God, more!”

He ground his hips with every stroke, grinding his pelvis over her sensitive clit. Emma shuddered, relishing every second. Her cries were music to his ears, the desperate way she clawed at him heady. He rode her until she exploded around him, her walls rippling along his shaft, his name on her lips. He fucked her through her high, intent on drawing another from her magnificent body.

Emma was floating, euphoric. She kissed her lover deeply, silently thanking him for giving her such pleasure. As she slowly came down, she realized he was still hard within her, still stroking her so perfectly. “Oh fuck,” she moaned, her body responding. “Fuck, _yes_ , Killian.”

“Stay with me, Princess.” He wrapped his arms around her and held her close as he moved to sit up. He slipped from her briefly, but they hastily yanked her skirts aside, so she could align her hips. Emma groaned as he filled her once more, slowly bouncing in his lap. “That’s it, love,” he purred, watching his cock slide in and out of her. “You feel so bloody good.”

Emma nodded absently, bracing her hands on his shoulders. She felt like a woman in a trashy romance novel, seduced by the scoundrel lord. Only she loved this scoundrel with her whole being. “Oh my god.”

He drew her back to him, kissing her hungrily as she ground against him. He rutted under the voluminous skirts until his hand found her ass, giving it a squeeze. “Harder, Princess,” he demanded, bucking up as she sank down. “I want to feel you.”

She arched, his cock hitting the perfect spot within her. “Oh, right there. Right there!”

Their bodies moved in perfect sync, their clothes muffling the slap of skin. Yet nothing could muffle Emma’s cries of ecstasy. She held her his head to her chest, quivering with barely restrained need, right on the verge of orgasm. Killian wrapped his lips around one pert nipple and gave it a few hard sucks, bucking into her as deeply as he could. She shattered once more, her fingers yanking hard on his hair as she climaxed. Killian was right on her heels, rutting into her as he emptied himself with a heavy groan. His mouth continued to play with her nipples, drawing out her pleasure. “Love you,” he murmured. “Love you so much.”

Emma leaned against him, content to bask in the afterglow. Killian held her close, gently rubbing her back. He shared her fears for their loved ones; it was still a new feeling, knowing there were people out there who cared about him. He promised Emma he’d try to think better of himself, not be so susceptible to the darkness that still lingered in his soul, but it was hard. He knew she would not be truly happy until they’d returned home.

“Thank you,” Emma murmured, kissing his cheek.

“What for?”

“Knowing exactly what I need.” She smiled as she brushed her lips over his. “I love you.”

He caressed her cheek, drawing her back to him. He kissed her thoroughly, holding her so gently. “We’re a team, Swan. There’s nowhere else for me to be.” He drew her head to his chest, content to keep her close. It was a quiet moment in the storm that their lives had become.

While Emma didn’t mind being perched in his lap, her gown didn’t make it the most comfortable position. She moved to stand, the pair readjusting their clothes. Killian helped her with the corset, leaving it looser than normal. She didn’t really expect to be going anywhere else.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” she said, grabbing the letter from a pocket in her gown. It was slightly wrinkled now, but not too bad. “Lady Portman gave this to me. Melbourne sent it.”

Killian accepted the letter, opening it carefully.

_Her Majesty Queen Victoria,_

_Lord Melbourne regretfully must return to London. He offers his most sincere apologies for departing so abruptly; the matter was most urgent. Lord Melbourne wishes Her Majesty a pleasant visit to Windsor._

_Respectfully,_

_Viscount Melbourne_

Killian read the message at least five times. It made no sense. He racked his brain for a reason that Melbourne would decamp to precipitously; he was not as well read on the topic as he now wished he was. He knew the major players, but not the minutia of daily life. And it was the abruptness that made him suspicious. He’d seen the pair together with his own eyes. They were hopelessly in love with each other. The Queen had no interest in her cousin; she only had eyes for Melbourne. If he truly had been called back to town on government business, it would not have been in the middle of the night. Yet knowing the man as he did, Killian knew that the only way Melbourne would willingly abandon the Queen like this was if he felt like it was in her best interests. Like he had _no_ other option. Killian knew that kind of desperation, that fear of ruining something you love. When Zelena cursed him, he lived in terror of taking away Emma’s magic or hurting her family. Then she gave it up to save him…Melbourne was a fool if he thought Victoria would simply give up because he thought it was best.

Something happened. Someone threatened Victoria. It was the only explanation.

“Killian. Come look at this.”

He stirred from his reverie and joined her on the couch. “What is it?”

“This. It wasn’t here before.”

“Are you sure?” He looked at the page; it was an illustration of a dance. Swishing gowns and crisp uniforms of blue with gold braid. “Bloody hell, is that us?”

“I think so. Look, there’s Victoria and Melbourne.” The drawing was very similar to the one in the original storybook only the Queen and her companion looked much happier. She flipped slowly through the pages, there were smudges of ink, like someone was _trying_ to write but couldn’t.

“Wait, go back, Swan.”

“Where?”

Killian took the book and hurriedly flipped back a few pages. “There.” Finally, some readable text. It was handwriting he knew well. _Keep doing what you’re doing, Mom and Killian. Operation Rook. We’re trying to find a way to get you home!_

Tears stung her eyes. “Henry?” She ran her fingers over the scrawl; she could almost hear his voice.

“Aye, love. It’s him. See? They are looking for us.”

“But what does he mean? Operation Rook? ‘Keep doing what you’re doing.’ Cryptic much?”

“I hate to say it, darling, but his grandfather is the ruddy Dark One.”

“Don’t remind me.” She knew it wasn’t Neal’s fault he was Rumplestiltskin’s son, but she wasn’t crazy about it. Gold pretty much kept to himself these days, raising his new son with Belle. “Maybe he doesn’t want to reveal too much? In case this thing falls into the wrong hands?”

“Aye, I’m sure that’s it.” Their cover story was thin; only Victoria’s loyalty was truly keeping them safe. “Still, it’s not much help.”

“We’ll just have to keep looking.” They examined the entire book; Henry’s message was the only discernable text. There were more illustrations. Some were events that had already transpired: their rescue of the Queen, the confrontation with Leopold, Albert’s arrival. But there was one Emma didn’t recognize. “Where is this?”

“Let me see.” Killian laid the book in his lap, examining the illustration carefully. The man was undoubtedly Melbourne, but he looked terrible. Disheveled, slouched, a glass in his hand. The room was unfamiliar, but Killian thought he knew where it was. “I suspected as much.”

“Suspected what?”

“Someone threatened Victoria. With something so vile that William felt like he needed to forsake her.”

“How do you know?”

He pointed at the picture. “Because this was me. After Zelena cursed me.”

A wave of sadness and regret washed over her. In protecting her heart, she’d been unintentionally cruel. She hated herself a little for that. Killian and his feelings scared the crap out of her back then. It was easier to ignore them, make jokes at his expense. She leaned in and pressed her lips to his temple. “I’m sorry.”

“I was never upset with you, Swan. I understood completely. Knowing you were safe was enough for me.”

“I’m still sorry. I was scared. So scared of letting you in. I think—deep down—I always knew you were it. And I was so terrified of losing you, that I almost lost you anyway. So thanks for sticking around, even when it wasn’t easy.”

“Every trial was worth it, love. Every single one.”

“Even getting stabbed with an ancient sword?”

“That one might have been worse than the others.” He took her hand in his. “But you came for me, loving me despite those terrible things I said and did.”

“Some of those things you said weren’t so off the mark. I just hate that it took you being possessed by the darkness to admit them.”

“Swan…”

“No, Killian. A relationship means two. We both have our baggage. We’ve overcome a lot of it, but we’ve done things to hurt each other because of it first. Not on purpose, but that doesn’t matter. I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“I don’t want to hurt you either.”

“We’ve done pretty good though, right?”

“Aye, I think we have.” He squeezed her hand gently. “What do you say we go help our friends find the same kind of happiness, eh?”

“How do we do that?”

“Well, unless I’m much mistaken, William’s gone to Brocket Hall. I think I might be able to talk some sense into him, get him to return.”

“What should I do?”

“Support the Queen. Don’t be too obvious about it or raise her hopes. We don’t want to draw any more suspicion from whomever has threatened her.”

Emma scowled. “It’s gotta be Leopold, right? He’s got the most motive to get Melbourne out of the way. He wouldn’t be as obvious as he was with us.”

“Indeed.”

Emma had a terrible thought. “Do you think Albert’s involved?”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t strike me as the type, but it wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on him. I’ll try to return as soon as I can.”

Emma looked outside. It was already dusk. “When do you leave?”

He followed her gaze. Leaving now would be very suspicious. “First thing in the morning, I think.”

“We’ll have to think of an excuse.”

“We’ve all night to do it, love.” They took dinner that evening in their rooms; they were informed that the Queen was doing the same. Emma felt bad for her; she could only imagine how she was feeling, how confused she must be. As soon as she saw Killian off, Emma would make it her mission to get to the bottom of this. History be damned.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back! Sorry for the lateness of updating. This chapter has been a long time coming, as it was the one that inspired the whole fic! I hope you like it. For the Victoria viewers, there is one scene you'll recognize. It's intentional. Enjoy!

“Drina.”

Victoria’s back stiffened instinctively. She did not wish to see her mother. She did not wish to see anyone. She was trying to be strong—she truly was—but once again, her greatest strength seemed to have abandoned her. She’d reread Lord M’s first letter over and over until she had it memorized, trying to divine the hidden message in his words. Surely, there had to be one? He’d not abandon her willingly, not after everything they’d shared. She refused to believe that. She couldn’t believe it.

If she did, then those who wished her ill would win. She refused to let that happen.

When she first realized that William’s departure was more than normal government business, she lashed out. She banished her ladies from her sight. She needed to think. She knew her mother, or worse _Albert_ , would only distract her. It was not exactly queenly, but she could not help it. Her heart hurt. She missed her dear Lord M dreadfully; she was furious over whatever was keeping him from her. She’d written, over and over; all her letters were returned unopened. Something was very wrong. She could feel it.

“Drina, look at me when I speak to you.”

Victoria turned, her hands folded in front of her. “Yes, Mama?”

The Duchess of Kent looked down her nose at her wayward daughter. “You must stop this foolishness, Drina. You are snubbing your guests! Your dear cousins have come all this way…”

“To get me to marry Albert, Mama!” Victoria cried. “How many times must I tell you that I have no wish to marry such a man?”

“He is family, Drina! If not Albert, then who? You must marry!”

“And you wish me to marry a man I do not love! What kind of queen would I be then?”

“You speak of silly things, Drina. You need a steady hand. Albert can…”

Victoria drew herself up to her full height, short though she was. She was queen here, not the Duchess. “And just what are you implying, Mama? That I can not rule on my own? You have never believed me capable! The only person who has _ever_ believed in me is Lord M!”

“Where is your precious Lord Melbourne now, Drina?” The Duchess said smugly. “He can not stay with you forever, surely you must see that!”

Victoria had had enough. “You may leave, Mama.”

“Drina…”

“Your Queen has dismissed you, Duchess,” she replied coldly. She was finished allowing her mother such liberties. Her meddling had gone on long enough.

The Duchess of Kent stood there stunned for a long moment. Her daughter had never spoken to her like that before. At length, she curtsied and left, the door shutting firmly behind her.

Victoria was utterly alone.

* * *

 

Emma came around the corner, nearly colliding with a distraught Duchess. “I am so sorry,” Emma said quickly. When she spotted the stricken look on the older woman’s face, she paused. “Is everything alright, Your Highness?”

The Duchess scowled once she realized who had spoken. “I am _fine_ ,” she snapped, stepping back. Her eyes were glassy with unshed tears and her gloves were twisted and wrinkled; the woman was clearly not fine, but Emma let it pass. Whatever had the Duchess upset was clearly none of Emma’s business. Yet, she suspected. As a mother herself, she had an idea of what the other woman was going through. Emma disagreed with her methods, but she knew the Duchess was only doing what she believed was best for her child.

“I’m still sorry,” Emma said quietly.  “I was distracted.” Killian had left Windsor just after breakfast, to avoid suspicion. If he was right about Melbourne, he might have the best chance of getting through to the older man. Emma had never given much thought to what Killian had been through in the early weeks of their acquaintance. Not out of malice, but out of ignorance. She’d been wrapped up in her own confusion and fear that she’d hurt him. She was ashamed of that now. She resolved to be better in the future, be the partner he deserved. He already did so much for her; it was the least she could do.

“Head in the clouds, both of you,” the Duchess muttered, mostly to herself. “No sense of duty.”

Emma’s brow furrowed; what the hell? Just who did the Duchess think she was? “Duty and happiness don’t have to mutually exclusive,” she said, loud enough to show the Duchess that she’d heard. “I don’t know what’s made you this way, but Victoria is stronger than you think. She deserves your support, not your condemnation.”

“You are not a mother,” the Duchess of Kent replied, mustering her dignity. “Only then will you understand what I suffer.”

Emma bit back her retort. Henry was still a secret from her new friends. It was simply too weird to explain. _Sorry, kid_ , she thought as she watched the Duchess walk away. _I’ll make it up to you when we get home._ In the meantime, she had a queen to see.

 

* * *

 

_Dearest William,_

_I know it is likely that this missive will returned unopened, but I refuse to give up. I am not sure what has transpired, but please my love. Come back to me. Ease the ache in my chest. I am trying—so very hard, dearest—to remain strong. I love you, I love you and only you!_

_With everlasting hope,_

_Victoria_

She folded the letter carefully, then sealed the envelope with wax. She dared not use her royal seal, lest it fall into the wrong hands. She needed to find Lady Portman; surely, she could get the letter to Willian unnoticed. And if he didn’t reply? If he stayed away? Victoria had made up her mind. She would never marry Albert. She would rather reign alone than be yoked to a man she did not love, a man who did not respect her. It would be hard, she would be lonely, but she could not betray her Lord M that way. She was not that callous.

A knock drew her from her gloomy thoughts. “Victoria? May I come in?”

Relief washed through her. If anyone would understand her heartache, it was Emma. She hurried to the door and opened it herself. “Emma!”

Emma was surprised when the younger woman threw herself into her arms. She hugged Victoria quickly, worried about her friend. “How are you doing?”

Victoria glanced around, then ushered her friend into her sitting room. “Beleaguered, if I’m honest, Emma. My mother was here.”

“I know. I accidentally ran into her a few minutes ago.”

“Oh, Emma, I am so sorry! Was she cruel to you?”

“No more than usual.” Emma suspected the Duchess’s opinion of her was influenced by her brother, King Leopold. She tried not to let it get to her.

“Still, she was probably taking out her feelings on you. It’s me she’s upset with.”

“Did you two quarrel again?”

The ladies took a seat on the spacious window seat. It was one of Victoria’s favorite places in the whole palace. “Unfortunately. She thinks I’m being rude to my guests. But something is wrong with Lord M! I can feel it!”

Once again, Emma was struck by how much Victoria reminded her of herself. When something was wrong with Killian, she just _knew._ It had come in handy on more than one occasion. She wondered if Victoria and Melbourne shared a similar connection. “Have you had any word from him?”

Victoria frowned. She looked unbearably sad. “No. All my letters have been returned. I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t give up. We’ll think of something.” Emma felt a little stupid, spouting platitudes. But Killian had warned her not to get Victoria’s hopes up. She glanced away, trying to think of a way to distract her friend from her pain. “What did your mother want? Is being rude to your guests a reference to Albert?”

Victoria sighed. “Yes. Why can’t she accept that I don’t want to marry him?”

“She wants what’s best for you,” Emma replied.

“But she doesn’t think I can decide that for myself!” Victoria said hotly.

“I didn’t say she was right. Just trying to explain where she was coming from.”

Victoria had to concede the point. “I just wish she had more faith in me.”

“She’ll come around.”

“I hope so.”

Emma glanced out the window. It was overcast, but pleasant enough. “Perhaps getting outside would do us some good? Killian’s gone back to town for the day, so I’m all yours.”

Victoria brightened. The outdoors was just what she needed. She felt a pang—she loved riding with Lord M above all—but he would be most disappointed if she simply shut herself away. “I would love that. Thank you.”

Victoria rang for Skerrett; she needed to change into her riding habit. She and Emma promised to meet in the stables in an hour. She felt invigorated, the ache in her heart easing. Victoria loved the outdoors; she could be free when she was on horseback. She could think. If there was a way to bring Lord M back, she would find it.

 

* * *

 

“Here we are.”

Killian looked over the house in front of him. It was a beautiful home, more charming than stately; he could see why Melbourne would seek refuge here. Killian rode through the gate, steeling himself. He’d thought long and hard about how to approach his friend. He was certain he was right, but how could he convince Melbourne of that? It was a daunting task.

As he approached, a groom appeared. Killian dismounted quickly and handed off the reigns. He wasn’t expected, but he’d never been one to stand on ceremony. The groom looked nervous as he guided Killian’s horse to the stables to be fed and watered. Killian knocked smartly on the door and waited.

“May I help you?” the house’s butler asked upon opening the door.

“Aye. I’m here to see Viscount Melbourne.”

“His lordship is not at home.”

Killian didn’t believe that for a second. Where else would Melbourne retreat to, aside from Brocket Hall? “Sure about that, mate? I’m a friend. Captain Killian Jones.”

“I know of no such person.”

Killian rolled his eyes. He had no patience for any of this. He pushed his way through, wishing he had his sword. Threatening the man probably wasn’t the best idea, but Killian knew time was of the essence. If he didn’t bring Melbourne back soon, whatever Leopold was planning would come to pass. And that bastard could go to the devil.

“Now see here!” the butler cried as Killian pushed his way through.

“Stuff it, Jeeves. I don’t have time for this.”

Melbourne heard the ruckus and groaned. All he wanted was to be left alone to wallow in his misery. He’d left strict instructions not to be disturbed. He knocked back a gulp of his brandy, then stood. He wobbled a little bit—he lost track of how much he’d had to drink—but quickly steadied. Before he could speak, Captain Jones marched into the room.

“You look like shite, mate.”

Melbourne laughed. “I feel bloody fantastic.”

“Liar.” Melbourne _did_ look terrible. His cravat was gone, waistcoat open and hanging loosely from his shoulders, his shirt open, his hair a mess. The strong stench of alcohol lung to him. Killian knew it well. He certainly had his work cut out for him. “What the hell happened?”

“What makes you think something’s happened? I’m the Prime Minister of this country, Captain. I can not be at Her Majesty’s beck and call. I am not an errand boy!”

Killian followed the clearly drunk Prime Minister into his study. More books than Storybrooke’s tiny library possessed lined the walls. Papers littered the desk. A half empty bottle of brandy sat on a smaller table; Melbourne was already pouring himself another drink. “Drink?”

“Sure.”

Melbourne handed him a glass tumbler, then flopped down into his velvet covered chair. “What brings you to Brocket Hall, Captain?” His inate politeness was taking over, against his will. He knew why his new friend was there, but he had to be strong. For Victoria’s sake.

“I think you know, William. You just…left. I want to know why.”

“Do I need a reason? I actually am quite busy.”

“Drinking your way through bottles of brandy? Aye, I can see that.” Killian knocked back his drink; it burned going down. Not the same way rum did, but when someone was as down on themselves as William obviously was, anything would do. Anything to numb the pain.

“What’s it to you? You’ve never struck me as a temperance man, Captain.”

Killian chuckled. “Believe me, I am the _last_ person to lecture anyone on their drinking habits.” Pan had once called him a one handed pirate with a drinking problem. And it was true, to a point. In those days, he’d been without hope, caught in a spiral of misery, revenge and death. He hadn’t any illusions. Deep down, Killian knew his quest to end the Dark One would take his life. In the years before he met Emma, that desire to drag the Crocodile down into hell with him was the only thing keeping him going. Alcohol numbed the pain, but only to a point.

Emma changed everything. Broken like him, she was still full of the brightest light. It floored him. He was in love with her before he even realized it was happening. They’d had their share of troubles. He’d made some bad decisions, falling into old habits, convinced someone as genuinely good as Emma could never want a man like him. Yes, in those moments, he turned to the bottle. He wasn’t proud of it. It was simply a fact.

Still, he worked hard to be the kind of man Emma deserved. And if that meant reaching for his flask less and less…honestly, he barely noticed. Who needed rum, when one had Emma Swan to come home to every night? That didn’t stop them from indulging themselves, together.

“That said,” Killian continued, “you’ve never struck me as a man who overindulged in anything.”

Melbourne laughed. “Then you don’t know me very well.” Truly there was only one thing he’d ever been tempted to metaphorically gorge himself on. Victoria. She was a feast for the senses; in his most private dreams, he imagined them together, all the ways he would worship her. It only got worse once he had a taste of her. She’d granted him some outrageous and scandalous liberties with her person; even now, he ached for her. His body, his heart, his soul cried out for her. The brandy dulled it, but it never truly went away. Only the deaths of his beloved children were worse than this. This was absolute hell.

Which was Leopold’s plan. Break them so Albert could swoop in to save the day.

Nothing made Melbourne sicker than the idea of that…boy treating Victoria like she was some prize, a brood mare for his uncle’s dynastic ambitions.

“I know there’s woman at Windsor who misses you.”

Melbourne glanced at his companion briefly, hope flaring in his chest. Then he huffed, anguish twisting his heart. He was doing this for her. Because he loved her more than his own miserable life. He would not drag her down with him. He refused.

That look told Killian everything he needed to know. Melbourne was acting out of some misplaced nobility toward Victoria. And it was slowly killing him. If he could just get the man to open up, perhaps they could find a way to fix it. And if Leopold was responsible, Killian would take great pleasure in helping bring the man down a peg or two.

Melbourne was reaching for the bottle again, but Killian abruptly stood and yanked it away. “I think you’ve had enough, mate.”

“Need I remind you that you are in _my_ house, Captain,” Melbourne snapped. “And absconding with my liquor!”

But Killian was adamant. “Come on, mate. You’re better than this! Why won’t you fight this?”

“Why the hell do you care so much?!”

Killian eye’s welled with sympathy. “Because once upon a time, I _was_ you. And I nearly lost the woman I loved because of it. I was stupid, thinking I knew best. I didn’t trust her, and it nearly ruined everything. She’s forgiven me, ungrateful wretch that I am.” Being cursed by Zelena, banished by Gideon, turned into a Dark One…aye, Killian had made more than his fair share of bad choices. Emma had too. But they’d forgiven _each other_ and moved forward. They’d built a life together, brick by brick; nothing could take that away from them. Melbourne loved Victoria like that, he could see it in the other man’s anguished expression. Killian couldn’t stand by and do nothing; it didn’t sit right in his crawl.

He, Killian Jones, had become a proponent of hope and true love. Who’d have imagined that?

Melbourne didn’t know what happened in the other man’s past, but he believed him. There was a truth in his eyes that could not be feigned or affected. “You don’t understand,” he said, defeat coloring his voice. He was so damn tired all of a sudden. “Believe me, this is the only way.”

“The only way for what? For you both to be miserable? Do you honestly believe that rubbish?”

Melbourne sank back into his chair. “I’m not good for her. I never was.”

“That’s not your decision to make. And it’s pretty damn presumptuous of you. Here, I thought you respected your queen more than that.”

Melbourne’s green eyes flashed dangerously. “Watch your tone, Captain. I can still have you thrown in the Tower.” They didn’t do that so much anymore, but it sounded good.

“Go ahead. I promise you I’ll be out in an hour’s time.” Either by his own ingenuity or Emma’s magic, if it came to that. Killian hadn’t seen a prison he couldn’t break out of though. He’d been in quite a few. Even that brig in New York…given enough time, he would have found a way. Fortunately, Emma had taken pity on him.

Melbourne considered him. “Yes, I believe you would.” He rubbed his eyes tiredly. “I’m getting too old for this.”

Killian huffed. “Age is relative, mate.”

“Says a man twenty years my junior.”

Killian sat back in the leather chair and crossed his legs. “I’m older than I look, William. Trust me.” Centuries older, but Melbourne didn’t need to know that.

“Does that make us lecherous old men?”

They both laughed, dry low chuckles that spoke to absurdity of their love for their respective royal ladies. “No, mate, I think that makes us extraordinarily lucky.” After a long quiet pause, Killian leaned forward. “Something’s happened. You don’t have to play the brave stoic, William. Let me help.”

“Do you think I want to be here? That I _want_ to abandon her?” Melbourne stood abruptly, starting to pace back and forth. “I tried to leave once, you know. Resigned as Prime Minister. I even tried to convince her to ask Sir Robert Peel to form a bloody government! Peel, of all people!” He clenched his fists, still furious at the part Peel played in the current drama. He’d always believed Peel to be a good, decent man, if misguided in his political beliefs. Now, he wasn’t so sure. How could he collude with Leopold?

 _Peel was never comfortable with a reigning Queen_ , Melbourne reminded himself. What was it he’d called it? A petticoat government. Peel saw the Queen’s marriage as the only way for the world to be in its proper order. With the Queen in the nursery with her babies while her husband ruled in her stead. So long as that husband wasn’t Melbourne, of course. He was sure the young Albert would suit Peel’s ambitions quite well.

God, he was going to be sick.

Melbourne dashed for the nearest chamber pot; it was just out in the hall. His throat burned as the brandy and other alcohol he’d consumed came back up. His head started to throb. How could he have been so stupid? So naïve? This wouldn’t end with his retirement. Leopold, Albert and Peel would conspire to stifle his darling girl, convince her of her weakness, of her _proper place._ His fierce brave queen would be gone, all to service other men’s egos.

It was disgusting, and he was allowing it to happen. No wonder Caro left him. No wonder everything good in his life shriveled and died. He was the worst sort of coward.

Killian moved cautiously, coming to stand by the other man’s side. He spotted the butler coming to investigate, but Killian waved him off. When Melbourne was finished, Killian silently handed him a handkerchief from his pocket. Thank the gods for Victorian clothing. Killian was actually having quite a lot of fun, dressing as a Victorian gentleman.

“Much obliged to you.”

Killian laid a hand on Melbourne’s shoulder. “Ready to talk about it now, mate?”

“I’m not sure what good it will do.” He truly didn’t see a way out. If he didn’t return, Victoria would suffer. If he did, Leopold was make sure she lost her crown. Either way, her brilliant light would be extinguished.

“Let me be the judge of that.” He nudged Melbourne back into the study while he made a request for some strong tea. He needed his friend sober and alert. “Now why don’t you start at the beginning?”

Melbourne hesitated, but ultimately gave in. In excruciating detail, he described his summons from the palace, his expectations of Sir Robert. The fear he’d felt then seemed like another lifetime. Now he was in a much worse hell.

“I bloody knew it was him,” Killian growled when Melbourne described Leopold appearing just feet from where they were sitting. “Arrogant ponce.”

“I don’t disagree with that assessment, Killian,” Melbourne said tiredly, pouring himself some tea. It helped settle his stomach if nothing else. “Yet, he is still a king.”

“And that matters? I’ve known cabin boys worth more.” His brother Liam came to mind. Perhaps not the paragon of virtue Killian had idolized, but Liam was a good man at heart. He’d only been trying to take care of his wayward brother, the best way he knew how. Killian hadn’t exactly made it easy for him.

“It matters when he’s threatening to ruin the life of the Queen of England.”

Killian’s brow furrowed. “Just how the hell would he do that?”

Melbourne sighed. “The whole country is all too aware of the Queen’s fondness for me. My reputation isn’t spotless, Killian.”

“Good lord, if Emma held my past against me, we’d not be here right now.”

“I didn’t say Victoria did.” Melbourne paused; simply saying her Christian name hurt. He’d only ever used it in her presence. But it was the woman he spoke of, not the Queen. As the Queen, she should banish him far from her sight; Caro’s affair was quite enough to make him unworthy of the Queen’s affections. “No, she’s been surprisingly…forgiving of my less than sparkling past.”

“She loves you.”

“Which is enough to make people wonder if she’s mad.”

“Love does funny things to people. But I believe it can also make them _better._ ”

“My love would only ruin her.”

“You don’t believe that. If you did, you’d have thrown me out hours ago.”

“Leopold threatened to publish a scurrilous account of our ‘affair’ in the papers. Accusing his own niece of engaging in a criminal conversation with the infamous scoundrel, Lord Melbourne!” Melbourne actually laughed; he couldn’t recall the last time he even _felt_ like a scoundrel. His love for Victoria was so pure, so unselfish. Yes, he wanted her—badly—but he truly would have been content to love her from afar. Her happiness was all he needed to make his final years peaceful.

Killian sat there in shock. Yet, the more he thought about it, the more plausible it became. Leopold was ruthless, willing to do whatever was necessary to achieve his ends. It reminded Killian strongly of the Crocodile. “So what are you gonna do about it, my lord? Sit around here and drink yourself into an early grave?”

“The people don’t care for the truth,” Melbourne said, bitterness seeping into his voice for the first time. Bryon, Caro, the trial, all those bloody cartoons lampooning him…Melbourne had taken it all in stride. He’d laughed at himself in public and refused to dwell in private. He read his books; he engaged with dear friends. Yet, that experience was nothing compared to a scandal involving the Queen of England. He loved her—and England—too much to destroy her.

“They’d care if they thought the King of Belgians was trying to turn the mighty English empire into his satellite. Can you honestly sit by and let that happen?”

“And what do you propose I do?” Melbourne snapped.

“Go back to Windsor. Right now. Tell Victoria the truth. She deserves that, at least.”

“What would that accomplish? Leopold can have his rubbish printed whenever he wants.”

“Do you love her?”

Melbourne blinked in surprise. “What?”

“It’s a simple question, mate. Do you love Victoria?”

“Far more than I should,” Melbourne confessed. His breathed deeply, a weight seemingly lifted from his shoulders. He’d tried to disguise his true feelings for so long; there was relief at admitting it at last.

“Then you should get off your arse and fight for her. More importantly, you should talk to her. Believe me, mate, it’s far easier sharing your burden than carrying it alone.”

“She must despise me. I’ve sent all her letters back. I couldn’t bring myself to read them.”

“I think she’s more steadfast than you think. That lass is not easily swayed.”

“Stubborn, you mean.”

“Aye, reminds me a bit of Emma, to be honest.”

“I hope that’s a compliment, Captain.”

Killian grinned. “It most certainly is.” Emma was the stubbornest woman he’d ever met; she’d have to be to put up with him. Gods, he loved her for it. The pair lapsed into silence, but Killian knew he’d won. He could see it in the set of the other man’s shoulders, his jaw. He was about to suggest they get going when the butler hurried in.

“My lord, Lady Emma Portman to see you.”

“Emma?” Melbourne frowned. She could only have come from one place. Was she here to tell him he was too late? That Victoria never wished to see him again? He wouldn’t blame her, if that was the case. He’d all but ripped himself out of her life, with no warning.

Lady Emma stepped impatiently around the butler. “William? What on _earth_ is going on here?” She was the picture of the perfect lady in waiting, aside from the concern in her eyes, which quickly alighted on Killian. “Ah, greetings, Captain Jones. Your wife said you might be here.”

Killian stood too. “I suspect we are here on a similar errand,” he replied.

Lady Portman smiled dryly. “Quite.” She turned to her friend. “Now, William, what could have possibly happened to send you all the way out here?!”

Melbourne sagged. It was exhausting to go through the entire sad situation again. Yet, he did. Because Emma was his friend and deserved the truth. When he finished, Lady Emma Portman muttered a vile curse. Melbourne had never heard her speak so. “Emma, such language.”

“And just what do you want me to say? That man is trying to bully my queen into a marriage she doesn’t want. He’s trying to destroy the lives of people I love. If you think I’m going to sit here and do nothing, then you don’t know me as well as you think, William.”

Melbourne held up his hands in surrender. “Be calm, Emma. I’m going back. I have to tell Victoria the truth.” Worry clouded his green eyes. “How is she?”

Emma’s face was kind, if a little exasperated. As if he needed to ask. “She’s been quite upset. She refused to see anyone at first. And I know for a fact she had a row with the Duchess right before I left. But Princess Emma was with her.”

“And Albert?”

Emma made a face. “The Clockwork Prince? He’s been hovering about like a vulture. It’s disgusting. Encouraged by his uncle undoubtedly.”

“Undoubtedly.” Melbourne was both relieved and upset by this news. Selfishly, it was confirmation that Killian was right; she was fighting this situation with everything she had. Still, she was Queen and must not be seen to be carrying on like this over an old man. It wouldn’t do.

“Oh, before I forget,” Lady Emma said, a smile playing at the corners of he lips. “I was instructed to place this directly into your hands.”

Melbourne knew it was from Victoria. Eager and afraid, he took a deep breath as he broke the seal. He noticed it was not a royal seal, quite clever of her. Her handwriting—untidy at the best of times—reflected her anguish—and her hope. Here was proof of what Killian had been trying to tell him. Victoria wasn’t giving up on them; he shouldn’t either. He was a fool to have forsaken her in the first place. Blinking back tears, he refolded the letter and placed it in the pocket of his waistcoat. “Harold? Summon my horse,” he said firmly. “I need to get to Windsor with all speed.” He looked to Killian. “You’ll accompany me?”

“Of course. It’s a long ride.”

Melbourne grasped the other man’s hand firmly. “Thank you,” he said sincerely.

“Thank me when you’re back at her side, mate. It’s not over yet.” Leopold’s threat still hung over them; this was only the first step. But Killian knew from experience, the first step was the hardest.

 

* * *

 

Victoria relaxed for the first time in days. Ever since Lord M left, she’d felt trapped. The precipitous nature of his departure seemed to bring out the worst in most of the people around her. Her ladies in waiting supported her, as did Emma, but it had taken all her fortitude to keep the proverbial hounds at bay. How many times had her mother asked to see her? Albert? Even Ernest. Emma had finally convinced her to get out, and she could not have been more grateful.

Victoria felt more like herself out here amongst the trees. She still missed Lord M dreadfully, but she knew she would get him back. Somehow. She simply needed the right inspiration.

“You really like this riding thing, don’t you?” Emma asked, still feeling a bit nervous on her own mount. She’d never ridden without Killian before; if there was ever a time for her lack of royal upbringing to show, this would be it. She was on the same placid mare as before; Emma felt bad for holding Victoria back.

“You don’t?”

Emma shrugged. “Honestly? I’d never ridden until I met Killian.” Her very first time on a horse was in Camelot. Killian had done all the hard work; she just held on. It had been exhilarating and she enjoyed herself, but it was an altogether different thing when you were the one guiding the horse.

Victoria was surprised but hoped it didn’t show. “You’re doing splendidly.”

“You don’t have to be nice. I’m slow and cautious on this thing.” Her trusty Bug, it was not.

“Killian taught you?”

“Yeah, he’s very patient. I think he just likes knowing I enjoy something he associates more with his past.” He didn’t grow up with cars, trains or planes. Modern transportation was still very new for him. Her pirate was happiest on his ship, even if they were just sailing out into the bay for a quiet afternoon. It struck her again, just how much he willingly gave up, just to be with her.

After they got home, she wanted to show him how much that meant to her.

“Well, he seems to be a good teacher.”

“Thanks. Don’t feel like you have to hang back on my account though.”

“Nonsense, Emma. I want to spend time with my friend.”

Nevertheless, they did pick up the pace, just a little bit. So much so that both women missed the sound of approaching hooves until they were almost on top of them. “Cousin! Why didn’t you tell us you were going riding?”

Ernest. He sounded a little _too_ enthusiastic, which meant that Albert could not be far. She summoned a smile as she turned; sure enough, the younger Coburg brother was next to Ernest. “It was quite a sudden fancy,” she explained. “Emma’s never seen this part of the park.”

Emma wasn’t crazy about their new companions, but there really wasn’t a way to politely get rid of them. She was hampered by her plodding mare. At least she would be there as a buffer. “It’s nice,” she confirmed. “Reminds me a bit of home, actually.” That wasn’t a lie. Storybrooke was surrounded by woods very similar to these. Perfect for villains to hide in, she’d found.

But was Albert a villain? Or an innocent victim in his uncle’s games? She still wasn’t sure. The prince was stiff and cold, apparently unable of uttering a kind word to the woman he was supposedly trying to woo. Ernest was much better, charming and affable; in Emma’s opinion more handsome too. Not that either held a candle to her own pirate or Lord M, but they weren’t ugly. Albert was far too inscrutable for Emma to get a good read on him. He might not be _malicious_ , but he certainly was _ambitious_. And had very ingrained opinions. Emma had no doubt he would try his best to mold Victoria into his perfect little German wife, if he got the chance.

 _Where are you, Killian?_ She thought as the quartet set off down the lane once more. She missed him, and he’d only been gone for a few hours.

Some awkward and stilted conversation later, Victoria reigned up. A clearing opened up along the edge of the path; Dash was already running after an animal he’d seen. “Dash! Come back!”

“Maybe this is a good spot to walk a little?” Emma suggested. She knew Victoria loved her dog; she’d be upset if anything happened to him.

“A splendid idea, Your Highness,” Ernest said. He dismounted gracefully, then he offered a hand to Emma. “If I may be so bold?”

Emma struggled not to roll her eyes. Ernest was being ridiculous, but she didn’t see the harm in it. And she was a little worried about getting off the horse in her skirts. She accepted his help, dismounting with as much grace as she could muster. “Thanks.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” He flashed her a smile, but Emma noted it did not reach his eyes. Now that she thought about it, Emma had only ever seen him truly happy when he was with Harriet. Was Ernest in love with the beautiful vivacious Harriet?

“Don’t let my husband hear you say that.”

Ernest feigned a shudder. “Heavens no. That is a man one should not cross.”

Emma smiled to herself, the fearsome Captain Hook strikes again. “Probably not a good idea.” Still, she took Ernest’s proffered arm, not wanting to trip and make a fool of herself. This might be a good opportunity to glean some information, at least. Especially since she noticed Albert ahead of them trying to engage Victoria in conversation. She seemed much more interested in the antics of her dog. “Are you enjoying your visit so far?”

Ernest seemed surprised by her question. “Indeed. It has been some time since my brother and I have been to England. Much has changed.”

“Like your cousin being the Queen?”

“Among others.” Ernest actually looked a bit wistful. “Things are much more complicated then when we were children.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

Ernest brought them to a stop. “Let us not speak in riddles, Emma. You know why my brother and I are here.”

Emma was surprised by his forthrightness, but she decided to go with it. “Your uncle wants Victoria to marry Albert.”

Ernest looked relieved. “Oh, you are a clever one.”

“It’s not like it’s some big secret. The Duchess talks about it constantly. As if Victoria can’t make up her own mind.”

Ernest nodded. “Yes, my aunt can be a bit…dramatic?”

Emma frowned. “What does Albert want? Because I’ve never seen anyone so unenthusiastic about romance.” Save herself, possibly. When Killian first proclaimed his feelings for her, she was harsh and critical too. But because she was afraid of what it meant. And afraid of her own feelings. Killian stirred feelings in her she tried very hard to repress. Albert, on the other hand, didn’t seem afraid. More like pompous.

“Albert seeks to do his duty. In a way, I feel sorry for him. He was always the more bookish of us.”

Emma smirked. “But not you?”

Ernest laughed. “No, my tastes ran in an entirely different direction. Still, he is my brother.”

“You want to protect him. Do you think your uncle would do something if Albert didn’t marry Victoria?”

Ernest shrugged. “I honestly don’t know anymore. He’s shut me out of his little tête-à-têtes with Albert.”

“Do you think they’re conspiring?”

“A few weeks ago, I’d have said no. Now?” Ernest shrugged again. It was the most serious Emma had ever seen him. He was worried about his brother, that much was evident. Emma considered him; she didn’t sense any deception. Still, it didn’t hurt to probe further.

“Why are you telling me this? Isn’t Albert marrying Victoria in your family’s best interest?”

That caught him off guard. Hurt colored his handsome features. “I would rather my brother be happy than trapped in a marriage with someone clearly in love with someone else.” Ernest drew them to a stop. “I suppose what I’m asking for is your help, Emma. You care for my cousin, yes?”

“She’s my friend; of course, I care.”

“Then help me end this farce.”

Emma sighed. Could she trust Ernest? He’d done nothing but seem to encourage his brother’s suit, laying on the charm whenever Albert fumbled. But he’d never looked entirely comfortable doing it. She wondered what Leopold had said to him. She wasn’t familiar enough with their situation to know. Still, her instincts were telling her Ernest was on the level. Killian was always telling her to trust her instincts, right?

She decided to take a chance. “Okay.” She looked around; Victoria and Albert seemed to be long gone, run after Dash. Emma didn’t like leaving her friend alone, but she also didn’t think Albert would allow Victoria to come to harm. “Killian’s gone to Brocket Hall, to try and bring Melbourne back.”

Ernest looked relieved. He said something in German Emma didn’t understand, but he seemed happy enough. “Apologies, my dear. That’s simply the most sensible thing I’ve heard in days.”

“Let’s just hope it works.”

“Your husband is a very formidable man. I have great faith in his abilities.”

“I do too.” She just wished she knew where he was now.

 

* * *

 

“Dash! You silly thing!” Victoria cried as she watched her faithful companion chase a rabbit. She only half heartedly followed, not wanting to ruin his fun. It had been some time since he’d gotten to play outdoors.

“He is certainly…enthusiastic,” Albert said dryly. He followed his cousin as closely as he dared; he realized some time ago that they were utterly alone for the first time since his arrival. Ernest must have been keeping Princess Emma busy. He would have to thank his brother later.

“Don’t you have any pets?” Victoria asked. She was genuinely curious. Albert spoke so little about himself. Most of the time if was a relief. Whenever they were in company, Albert came across like a puppet on strings, performing to an unseen audience. Victoria may never come to love him the way everyone wished her to, but he was still her cousin. Family.

Albert shook his head. “My father wouldn’t allow it.”

“That’s a shame.” Her hair was becoming unpinned; Victoria swept her hat off her head and tried to repin it. It didn’t take long for her to realize she was making things worse. And she thought she heard Albert laugh! She scowled at him. “Must you always be so judgmental?”

Albert held up his hands. “You’ve never done your own hair, have you?”

Her frown deepened. “No, Skerrett always takes care of it. And Lehzen before her.” The absurdity of her life suddenly smacked her in the face. She was a grown woman who couldn’t do her own hair!

Albert appeared at her side, looking contrite. “May I be of assistance?”

Victoria sighed. “Best just take them out. We’ll never get everything how it was.” She stood still as Albert plucked the pins from her hair, slipping them into his pocket. His inexperience showed; he poked her several times. Victoria bore it bravely, not making a sound. How many times had she imagined Lord M seeing her unbound? How many times had she imagined this very thing? Perhaps not in the middle of the woods, but in the privacy of her chamber? Longing seized her heart; she missed him so much. Even this close to Albert, she felt nothing. No warmth. No quickening of her heart in her breast. No anticipation coiling in her belly. None of the feelings she had when William looked at her, touched her.

Albert looked concerned. “Victoria? Are you alright?”

“Yes, I am quite well. Thinking about going back actually.” She was getting Lord M back, even if she had to go all the way to Brocket Hall to do it! “Dash! Dash!”

Albert frowned; he needed to salvage this somehow. He might not get another chance to be alone with her. “It’s early yet, cousin. Surely, Dash would enjoy a bit more time outdoors?”

“There are clouds on the horizon, Albert,” Victoria reminded him. “I’d rather not be caught in a late fall storm.”

They were still bickering about the weather when Victoria heard Dash’s distinct whine of pain. “Dash! Oh Dash!” She picked up her skirts and hurried off in the direction of the sound. She called for her friend over and over until she discovered him laying in the grass. “Oh, you poor thing!” She dropped to her knees, ignoring the hard ground. Dash was shaking, stuck in some sort of metal trap. She touched him gingerly, but Dash flinched. Panic rose in her throat; she didn’t know what to do!

Suddenly, Albert appeared. “Here, let me.” He peeled off his coat and rolled up his sleeves. Victoria’s distress about her little dog moved him. Perhaps she wasn’t as aloof as he’d thought. Carefully, Albert examined the trap, trying to figure out how best to open it without hurting Dash further. He found a well hidden catch underneath the dog’s body. “Hold him still,” he ordered. “I’m going to release the trap.”

Fearful for Dash, Victoria did as she was bid. “What vile person lays out such traps?” she cried.

“Your groundskeepers, no doubt.”

It was all Victoria could do not to scream. How dare he? Yes, he was probably right, but Dash was in danger! Yet, he had no care for her feelings! She was about to say something when the trap sprang open. Victoria started to scoop Dash into her arms, but Albert warned her off.

“His leg. We must examine it.”

“Oh. Yes, of course.” Now that she was looking at it properly, she could see Dash’s right front paw was resting at an angle it shouldn’t.

The poor animal whined as Albert examined him. “Definitely broken. We’ll have to bind it. Give me a length of your skirt.” He found a sturdy looking branch on the ground and snapped it into roughly even pieces. He’d witnessed a binding such as this during his travels in Italy; he never expected it to be of use. How grateful Victoria would be if he saved her dog!

Victoria looked askance at him for a moment, then stood. Hastily, she tore at her riding habit; it took more force than she expected to rip a length of fabric free. She handed it to Albert, who worked quickly. In a few minutes, Dash was more comfortable, no longer in quite so much pain. “Thank you, Albert,” she said sincerely. “I would have been quite lost without you.”

“We’ll let him rest for a few minutes before going back.”

 They watched over the dog in silence, even as the shadows deepened. Victoria’s only thought was Dash. “When I was at Kensington, Dash was my only real friend.”

“And now it is different?”

“Yes. I have Lord Melbourne now. And my ladies of course.”

Albert scowled. Always Lord Melbourne! Would he never be free of him? “I wish you had not been so much with Lord Melbourne. He is not serious.”

How dare he insult Lord M? Still, she kept her composure. Perhaps if she could make him see how much Lord M meant to her Albert would give up his suit, in the name of her happiness. “He does not choose to appear serious. It is the English manner, Albert, but he is a man of great feeling.”

Albert frowned. “Perhaps you should marry him.”

 _If only you knew,_ Victoria thought. _That is my dearest wish!_ “Albert!”

But Albert would not back down. “Do you know the day when I was in the city? You know what I saw? I saw a child, maybe four or five years old, selling matches, one at a time. Lord Melbourne chooses not to look at that, but I must. We cannot close our eyes to the world around us. If you wish to surround yourself with sycophants, go ahead. I, on the other hand, would rather see things for what they are.”

Fury boiled through her. “How dare you? May I remind you that, while you were looking at paintings in Italy, I was ruling this country? Yet you have been here a few days and you assume you know my people better than I do. I do not need you to tell me what to think, Albert.”

There was no kindness in his face. “No. That's Lord Melbourne's job.” And he turned on his heel and left.

Victoria was rooted to the spot, nonplussed. So many emotions welled up in her; she was overwhelmed. If there was ever any proof that she and Albert were not suited, she need no look further. He was a rude, self-righteous prig! How dare he talk down to her? Her ancestors had ruled England for eight hundred years! She was the Queen of England! Worse was his lack of faith. Victoria knew all too well her own shortcomings and strived daily to overcome them. She worked hard. She tried so desperately to be the monarch her people deserved.

Why did everyone think she was so weak?

She felt to her knees, cradling Dash close. He squirmed a little but settled, as if sensing her distress. Oh, how she loved him for it! Victoria breathed deeply; she would not cry. She would not give Albert the satisfaction of knowing he’d hurt her. Even now, she expected him to come back, to apologize. Surely, he would not leave her alone in unfamiliar woods with an injured dog? Not even Albert could be so callous?

Could he?

It was getting darker. The once cheerful forest was turning gloomy and sinister right before her eyes. She had no idea where she was. Somewhere in Windsor Great Park, but beyond that she was at a loss. When Victoria went out, she always had someone with her, even if it was just Lord M. She was rarely alone, even in the palace.

A chill ran down her spine. With the sun falling under the tree line, it would grow colder quickly. She needed to get back. Somehow. But how? She had no sense of direction; she hadn’t been paying attention as Dash frolicked. She’d been enjoying the outdoors, gaining strength for what was to come. She thought to come back to the castle refreshed and determined to bring back Lord M.

Now she was lost in the forest with no idea how to get home.

What should she do? If she left her present spot, any search party would have a more difficult time finding her. She had no doubt that _someone_ would come for her, even if Albert didn’t. She was the Queen. But if she _didn’t_ stay…she looked up at the sky; it was completely clouded over, dark gray clouds that promised a storm. She couldn’t stay. She was in the open, dressed in a torn and cumbersome riding habit. Shelter. She needed shelter. She knew there were houses dotting the property; most of them were built by her grandfather. If she could find one…

That would open up a whole host of other problems, but she would worry about that latter. She was her father’s daughter and would not be cowed by some rain and inconvenience. Decision made, Victoria forced herself to stand, soothing Dash as he whined in pain. She would not abandon him, no matter what. She couldn’t.

Victoria debated for a moment or two before setting off. After a few minutes, she felt the first splashes of rain on her face. Thunder boomed in the distance and she instinctively ducked. It was much more frightening out here than in the castle. Setting her jaw, she pushed her way through the brush. She had no other choice now.

* * *

 

Emma looked up at the sky through the window, worry making her gut churn. At the first sign of the storm, Ernest convinced her to return to the castle. She’d wanted to go looking for Victoria, but her companion reminded her that she was with Albert, who—situation aside—would look after her. That was an hour ago. Victoria still had not returned, nor had Albert. Killian wasn’t back yet either.

Now it was outright _pouring_ , the wind made it lash against the glass. She couldn’t see very far, but that didn’t convince her to stop. Where was Victoria? If she was out in this, Emma would go looking for her herself, protocol and disguise be damned.

There was a knock and it startled her. Victoria’s lead footman, Penge, practically tumbled through the door. Before he could announce whoever it was, Killian Jones strode into the room. “Bloody nuisance,” he growled. His hair was plastered to his head, his clothes soaked through, but Emma was thrilled to see him. She didn’t hesitate, rushing into his arms. “Killian! Thank god.”

Killian was surprised but pleased by her reaction. He hugged her back, ignoring how wet he was. “Miss me?”

She rolled her eyes and swatted his shoulder. “Yes, but that’s not the point.” She was about to tell him her worry for Victoria when she spotted a second person enter the room. Melbourne looked bedraggled and wet, but she was happy to see him all the same. “I see you brought a friend.”

Killian smiled tiredly. “Aye.”

“My apologies for our appearance, Your Highness,” Melbourne said, sounded as tired as he looked. But Emma didn’t miss the way he searched the room, looking for Victoria no doubt. “I, ah, thought haste was more prudent. I was wrong.”

Emma shook her head. “I’m so glad you’re here. We missed you.”

“And the Queen?”

“Right.” Emma disengaged from her husband, worry settling on her shoulders again. “We went out riding earlier.” She explained about Ernest and Albert, Dash running off. “Ernest and I came back about an hour ago, but no one’s seen Victoria or Albert.”

Melbourne’s eyes instantly went to the window; the storm was as strong as ever. He was tired, soaked through, but suddenly none of that mattered. He needed to find Victoria. Right now. “I’m going.”

Killian nodded. “I’m coming with you.”

“Me too,” Emma said.

Killian shook his head. “You should stay, love.” She instantly started to argue, but Killian gently pulled her aside. “Emma, if Victoria’s out in this, we’re going to need some help. Some _magical_ help, if you catch my meaning.”

 _Oh._ Her magic. Right. She could do a locater spell! All she needed was something of Victoria’s! “Okay, I’ll stay,” she said, loudly enough for Melbourne to hear. Then she dropped her voice. “You remember how it works?” She’d worked on modifying the spell, so that she and Killian could utilize it. She’d linked their wedding rings together with magic, allowing them some level of communication if they ever got separated and couldn’t use their phones. They’d never gotten a chance to test it over this kind of distance, but it was their best shot at finding Victoria quickly.

Killian nodded. “Aye.” He leaned in and kissed his wife’s brow. “Love you.”

“Love you too. Find her. Please.”

“You have my word.” She watched them leave, then Emma hurried off to the Queen’s apartments. She had a spell to cast.

 Melbourne and Killian marched back the way they had come, intent on reaching the stables. Near paralyzing fear coiled in Melbourne’s stomach. How long had she been out there? Where was Albert? While Melbourne did not like the idea of Victoria being around her cousin; surely, he would stay with her? They were family, after all.

The truth was far less rosy.

Another horse was rushing into the stables as Melbourne and Killian arrived. His Serene Highness Prince Albert was astride the stallion, wet and cold. His collar was turned up against the wind and rain, his clothes soaked. Worse of all, he was alone.

Melbourne rushed him before the younger man could dismount. “Where is she? Where is Victoria?”

Albert looked as if Melbourne had slapped him. Whether his stunned expression was from being accosted so or the person accosting, William cared not. All he cared about was Victoria. “What are _you_ doing here, Melbourne?”

“What I should have done ages ago,” he shot back. “Now _where_ is Victoria?”

Albert dismounted from the horse, trying to ignore his interrogator. But Melbourne and Killian were having none of it. To the shock and awe of the surrounding grooms, they each grabbed Albert by a shoulder and shoved him into the nearest post. The prince grunted in pain, trying in vain to get away. “Unhand me!”

“Not until you tell us where Victoria is, mate,” Killian said flatly. He gave the prince his best Captain Hook glare; he was done putting up with the man’s cheek.

“I don’t know!” Albert cried, wilting under their mutual death glares. “We had an…an argument. Her dog got caught in a trap, then we were arguing, and I left. As soon as it started to rain, I tried to go back, but she was already gone.”

“And so you just decided to come back here? _Without her?”_ Melbourne shouted in disbelief. “Are you stupid or just mad? Do you hate her that much?”

“Without love there can be no hate,” Albert said, regaining some of his dignity. “She’s too obsessed with _you!_ She can’t see that you will bring her nothing but ruin! You’re _nothing!”_

“Says the man who abandoned the Queen of England to die,” Killian said in disgust. He punched Albert in the gut—just because he could—then hurried to follow Melbourne, who had already left the feckless prince behind.

The head groom insisted on giving both men heavy cloaks to at least try and protect them from the elements. He had his underlings saddle the two best horses; Killian and Melbourne accepted them gratefully. “Find her, milord,” the man said, looking genuinely afraid. “If anyone can, it’s you.”

Oddly, Melbourne took heart from that. Victoria was loved by her subjects. “I won’t come back without her. I give you my word.” More men arrived at the stables, including Victoria’s young equerry and even Ernest. Melbourne didn’t wait, kicking his new horse into a trot and heading into the storm, Killian on his heels.

 _Hurry, Swan,_ Killian thought as they rode into the forest. It was so cold. And wet. Victoria’s odds grew fainter by the moment.

 

* * *

 

Cold. It was _so_ cold. Victoria could not recall feeling so cold. She swore she was going numb. Her movements were tired, sluggish; she had to stop frequently to rest. Dash was like a lead weight in her arms; she never noticed how heavy he was before. Rain hit her face, but she didn’t really feel it anymore. Rain had soaked her clothes, making them even heavier, but she dared not remove them. She wouldn’t know how to in the first place.

She was so stupid! She should have stayed where she was! Albert could have come back for her! Or led others to find her. She had to be missed by now. How could anyone find her when she was hopelessly lost herself?

Victoria shook her head to clear it. No. She had to keep going. She would find shelter. Or the road back to the castle. She would not give up.

But first, she needed some rest. Just a little break. Ahead, she saw what appeared to be an ancient log; it was propped up on the largest rock Victoria had ever seen. The ground under the thick log seemed to be somewhat dry. Praying her silent thanks, she moved quickly, ducking to huddle underneath it. It took some doing, but she managed to find a somewhat comfortable position and arranged her wet skirts into a bed for Dash.

She was still cold, still more exhausted than she’d ever been in her short life, but she felt a little safer. Perhaps she could stay here until the storm passed? Yes, that seemed like a good idea. She tried to stay awake, but weariness seemed to make her eyelids twice as heavy. It was not a fight she could win. It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep.

 

* * *

 

“Victoria! Victoria!” Melbourne called again. And again. And again. He was growing hoarse, but he would not stop. Time had no meaning, nor did the elements. He refused to rest until he’d brought her home. He heard others riding through the park, all searching; he supposed it should cheer him. But it didn’t. Those men did not search for her because they cared for _Victoria._ They cared for the _Queen._ If word got out that the Queen of England was missing…it would be far worse than anything Leopold could cook up. And if they _didn’t_ find her…

Melbourne recoiled. No. They had to find her. He had to find her. She was alive. Probably cold, wet and shaken to the core, but she was alive. He just _knew._ And when he got her back to the castle, he wasn’t letting her out of his sight ever again.

Guilt and fear drove him. Would she blame him for this? He would not blame her if she did. If he hadn’t left her, she would never have been in the forest with Albert. They wouldn’t have quarreled. The princeling wouldn’t have left her in a fit of pique and jealousy. If Melbourne hadn’t been so distracted, he would have found it amusing. The young handsome prince was jealous of _him!_ A man decades his senior! A man who happened to capture the heart of the most incredible woman in the world.

 _I am so sorry, my love,_ he thought desperately. _I will never leave you again, unless you ask it of me._ Leopold’s threats be damned. If she still wanted him, William would do whatever it took to secure her happiness. He’d resign from Parliament, forthwith. He’d grovel before the Privy Council for her hand. He would do whatever was necessary. He just needed her.

Killian was worried for his friend. He stuck by Melbourne as they moved deeper into the forest, waiting for the sign. Emma would need something that belonged to Victoria to cast the spell; he’d watched her do it a hundred times, practicing until she got it right. He remembered one evening vividly, Emma doggedly practicing, growing frustrated with her progress. When he asked her why she was so determined, she looked at him like she was mad. How many times had one of them gone missing? Or another member of her family? Emma was determined not to lose anyone else, not if there was something she could do to stop it. Touched, Killian never questioned her again. In fact, he offered to help. They were a team after all.

With everyone out searching, he prayed she would not have trouble finding what she needed.

They were well off the path now. The horses had to pick their way through the wet ground, lest they accidentally step in a wet patch of deep mud and snap a leg. It was slow going and Killian could feel the fear and frustration coming off his companion in waves. He was about to say something when a sudden jolt of heat warmed the metal around his finger. Emma! She’d done it! Killian stilled, waiting. More than a year ago, Henry showed him various forms of modern communication, including something called Morse code. Killian thought it was ingenious, little dots and dashes forming words and sentences. They’d spent hours at it until Killian had it mastered. It was perfect for Emma’s modified locator spell. She would sit in front of a map, use the missing person’s artifact to locate them, then tap out the message on her own ring. Killian would then receive the message and hopefully, locate the missing person.

 _East, one mile._ Relief washed through him. Now they were getting somewhere! “William, mate, let’s try over there,” Killian called pointing to the east.

William was too anxious to argue. Without a word, he nudged his horse in the direction indicated. He couldn’t lose hope. For Victoria’s sake. For his own. For the future he knew without a doubt he wanted. He followed where Killian led, no longer shouting, but keeping his eyes peeled for some sort of movement. Then he thought he heard something. “Wait, did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“A whine. It was faint.” They both stilled, listening hard.

Killian caught his eye. “I hear it too.”

“Dash?”

“Only one way to find out.” They both climbed down from their horses; Killian tied them to a nearby tree. If it was Dash, then they had to be close. Albert had said the dog was injured; he had to be in pain. William winced; he knew Victoria would never forgive herself if something happened to her dog. She would stay with Dash even to the detriment of her own health. It exasperated him and cheered him at the same time. For that simple dedication that she had for her dog was just one of the things that made him fall in love with her.

The noise grew louder; there was no doubt in his mind that it was Dash. “Dash! Victoria!”

An anguished bark greeted him. William ran in the direction of the sound; a huge log loomed in front of him. And there, fallen in the mud, was Dash. He was nudging something urgently with his head; dread seized him. _Victoria._ William hurried around the log, falling to his knees. Victoria was huddled under the log, wedged between it and the rock, unconscious. She didn’t appear to be injured, thank goodness.

Killian appeared behind him. “Bloody hell.”

Willian touched her cheek; she was ice cold. “She’s freezing.”

“We need to get her inside.”

Willian shook her shoulder. “Victoria? Wake up, Victoria.”

He had to shake her twice more, but she finally stirred. She was disoriented, looking around wildly until her eyes settled on him. “William?”

He smiled, relief washing through him. “I’m here.”

She smiled faintly. “I knew you would.” It was hard to keep her eyes open; she was freezing. “Cold.”

“I know, darling. We’re going to get you back to the castle. Can you stand?”

It sounded exhausting, but she forced herself to move. William’s hands gripped hers, once more giving her strength. No sooner was she on her feet than she wobbled. “I’ve got you.” Willian scooped her up; the wet material of her riding habit making her heavier than he expected. Still, he didn’t waver. Killian brought the horses as quickly as he could, helping Melbourne ease Victoria onto before he mounted himself. “Can you see to Dash?”

“Aye, I’ve got him.” Killian wrapped the dog in his cloak, tucking the injured animal into one of his saddlebags.

It took them longer than William liked to get back to the main road. Only then did he pick up the pace, kicking the horse into a trot. The rocking of the horse was impossible to resist; Victoria feel asleep once more. It was worrying, but there was nothing he could do until they got back to the castle.

Emma was waiting when they finally returned. “How is she?”

“As well as can be expected.” Before he’d even dismounted, William started issuing orders. People scurried about, obeying him without question. Emma helped him get Victoria off the horse and into his arms. Two strapping young men appeared with a litter; William reluctantly released her into their care, following as they headed for the Queen’s apartments.

“Has her physician been summoned?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Drina! Drina!” The Duchess’s anguish shriek filled the hall; the litter bearers paused, looking to Melbourne for guidance. He waved them on; he could handle the Duchess. “Let me see my daughter!”

“She needs the doctor,” Melbourne said flatly. “You can see her later.”

 _“You!”_ the Duchess shrieked. “You did this!”

“No, your precious nephew left her alone in the woods. With an injured dog.”

“Lies! You have always hated Albert.”

“I have not. If you don’t believe me, ask him yourself. I must see to the Queen.” He didn’t bother to bow or acknowledge her in any way. He marched on, hurrying to catch to the litter. The faithful Skerrett was waiting for them. “Can you see to her? I will be back shortly. Allow no one inside, unless it is the doctor or myself. Is that understood?”

If Skerrett thought this an unusual or improper request, she gave no sign. She simply nodded. Willian hurried to his rooms, hoping he’d left some dry clothes behind. His valet was still at Brocket Hall, but he managed to change unaided. In record time, he was on his way back to Victoria. He found Emma and a now dry Killian waiting outside. “The doctor is with her now,” Emma said, looking worried.

“She’s strong,” William said, unsure if he was comforting the princess or himself.

“Aye, she is,” Killian agreed.

“Where is Dash?”

“Lady Portman is looking after him,” Killian informed him.

“That’s good. He is in good hands.” It was excruciating, waiting. William was tempted to simply march inside, but he needed to give the doctor room to work. He would do no good, breathing down the man’s neck. So, the three of them kept vigil outside the Queen’s apartment. William took to pacing, unable to ease the ache in his chest. He needed to be with her.

At length, the doctor appeared, carrying his bag. “Lord Melbourne. I did not expect…”

“How is she?”

“Sleeping. She was quite cold; I’ve had warming pans added to her bed until her body recovers. She does not appear to have any other injuries that I can see. Time will tell. I’ll return in the morning.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” As soon as the man left, William turned to his friends. “I’m staying with her. I can’t…” He sighed. “I won’t leave her again. Do you understand?”

Killian slipped his hand into Emma’s. “Perfectly, mate. We’ll make sure you’re not disturbed.”

“Thank you.” He wished he had the words to express all that Killian had done for him. He would forever be in the man’s debt. They shook hands before the pair departed. Skerrett looked unsurprised to see Melbourne enter the room.

“She’s resting now.”

“I’m going to stay here tonight,” he said flatly. “Do you object?”

Skerrett shook her head. “If anyone has the right…” She bobbed a curtsey. “Good night, my lord.”

“Good night, Miss Skerrett.” He waited until the door clicked behind the young woman, then locked it firmly. He was in the Queen’s most private space, not for the first time, but never in such circumstances. She was so tiny in the huge bed, tucked under piles of blankets with bulges that he assumed were the warming pans. Carefully, he leaned over, fingers skimming her brow. She was still chilled, but not nearly as much as when he first found her. That was a relief. He prayed to a God he wasn’t sure he believed in, praying for her health. There was still a danger of illness from exposure to the elements.

What should he do now? He knew he had to be with her, but beyond that, he was at a loss. He was bone tired himself; he felt every one of his years. What would she think of him now? What would their future hold? He did not see how anyone could wish her to marry Albert, once the truth of the situation was known. But it would not make his suit any easier, presuming Victoria still wanted him.

“William?”

Her voice was weak and thready, but music to his ears all the same. “I’m here.”

She opened her eyes, the blue faint in the candlelight. “I thought I dreamed you.”

He found her hand, taking it between his, letting her feel his warmth. “Does this feel like a dream?”

She twisted her hand, gripping his with surprising strength. Always so strong, his darling girl. “Will you stay?”

“I’m not going anywhere. Not ever again.”

Her tired face lit up; it broke him and stitched him back together all at once. “Truly?”

He nodded. “I can not bear to see you unhappy. I love you too much, more than I should.”

“I don’t care,” she said fervently. “I don’t care what anyone thinks.”

“Shhh, love. You must rest.” He appreciated her passion, but this was not the time to overtax herself. She would need her strength.

“Stay with me, William. Please.”

He thought about arguing, but his own will failed him. He was done living his life by other’s expectations. He and Victoria belonged to each other; nothing else mattered. To that end, he shrugged out of his jacket and waistcoat and removed his shoes. He hadn’t bothered with a cravat. Gently, he eased the heavy blankets back and slipped in beside her. It was toasty underneath. His foot hit one of the bedpans; he had to move it to the far end of the bed. Not difficult, considering how enormous the bed was.

He hardly had time to marvel at what was happening when Victoria settled his arms. She seemed to tuck herself under his chin, almost like she belonged there. William tenderly kissed the top of her head and held her close, peace washing over him in waves. This was right. This was where he belonged. And he would never be so foolish again.


	7. Chapter 7

The next day dawned bright and sunny if not exactly _warm._ Emma didn’t notice the latter much as she was currently wrapped in her husband’s sturdy embrace. But she could feel the cool air of the room on her face; it made her want to huddle deeper under the covers. They’d gotten to bed very late, arranging things so their friends would not be disturbed until they wished to be. Emma imagined they had quite a lot to say to each other. From what little Killian had told her, Melbourne had been in a bad way when he found him wallowing at Brocket Hall.

They’d taken a suite close to the Queen’s apartments, far from the one they had been originally assigned. Emma didn’t think Victoria would mind. As for her mother and Lehzen…well, Emma didn’t care what they thought anyway. It was an old castle with thick walls. Let people talk.

“Your feet are cold, love,” Killian grumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

She tucked them between his legs and buried her nose in his furred chest. “It’s not my fault this castle doesn’t have central heat.”

“I don’t think it’s the lack of heating, Swan.” It was something he’d noticed early on once they’d taken things to the next level. His lover got cold easily. Even before she was ready to verbalize her feelings, he could sense the change her because she clung to him in the night more and more. He didn’t mind in the least, preferring her in his arms and safe.

She shoved weakly at his shoulder. “Shut up.” It was an old gripe, one they both liked to tease each other about. It was a testament to how close they were.

He rubbed her back, moving just a bit to fit her more firmly against him. “You don’t mean that.”

“Yeah, I do. Sleepy.”

He kissed her brow. “My Swan needs her beauty sleep.”

That made her poke him again, sharper this time. “Watch it, buddy.”

“Perhaps the other way around?” he continued, a grin curving his lips. She hated that grin. It made her want to kiss it off him. “Being this devilishly handsome isn’t easy, you know.”

“It’s such a difficult life you lead,” she deadpanned.

“I prefer the word unpredictable.” Sure, they lived in a (mostly) sleepy town but life with his Swan was never boring. It was a whole new kind of adventure.

“Like falling through a portal into an alternate reality?”

“Exactly.” He rested his arm on her hip. “Still, it hasn’t been all bad, has it?”

“No,” she admitted. “In a weird way, it’s been kinda fun. Although I think you might be enjoying dress up more than me.”

He laughed. “You do look smashing in those gowns, sweetheart. A born princess.”

She rolled her eyes. “Would a pair of pants be too much to ask for?”

“Around this lot? Definitely.”

Emma yawned, wide and jaw cracking. She wasn’t shy about her habits anymore; Killian knew her more intimately than anyone had. Ever. They saw each other at their best and at their worst, along with everything in between. “I’m not even looking at a skirt when we get home.”

“Now that would be a shame.”

“Why?”

His hand glided over the curve of her bum. “I rather enjoy those tiny skirts you wear.”

“They’re not that tiny.” At least not the ones she wore in public. There were a few she had just for him. His hand didn’t stop, kneading gently through her nightgown. And that was beginning to warm her better than any central heat ever could. Unconsciously, she leaned into his touch, her hands resting lightly on his chest. She wet her lips and pressed them to his flesh, right over his heart.

Killian swallowed a groan; this hadn’t been his intention, but her touch was most definitely welcome. He bunched her nightdress more and more in his fist, eager to feel her skin. She cooed softly when he reached his prize, squeezing one cheek firmly. “Swan?”

She kissed up his sternum, a very welcome ache settling in her belly. “Yes, Captain?”

His cock twitched at the impish grin on her face. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” She pushed him onto his back, pushing the blankets back as she straddled his hips. “And anyway, you started it.”

“Started what?” he replied, pushing the thin night gown up her thighs.

Emma bent over him, pressing kisses to his collarbone, enjoying the taste of his skin. His hand wandered, dragging her lone piece of clothing higher up her back. The air in the room was cool, but now she didn’t mind it. “Driving me crazy,” she whispered, biting on his earlobe.

“And what should we do about that, Princess?” He fondled her pert arse, encouraging her to grind over his stiffening cock.

God, she loved when he slept in the nude. Made things so much easier. “The Princess thinks you should ravish her, pirate.” In this place, she liked playing up her royal status; it never failed to get a rise of him.

“Fucking hell.” He dragged her mouth to his, kissing her roughly. Then he lifted her bodily until her swollen sex hovered over his mouth. “Hang on.”

Emma moaned loudly as he licked a warm swipe through her slit. She gripped the ornate headboard, using it as an anchor while Killian ate her out. He focused on her clit, sucking greedily, winding her higher and higher. It was almost embarrassing, how quickly he could get her off when he put his mind to it. Liquid heat pooled in her belly; she craved release. Her hips seemed to have a mind of their own, rocking over his face, desperate for more. “Fuck, Killian,” she gasped, right on the edge. _“Fuck.”_

“Not yet, sweet.” He kissed her inner thigh, tapping her ass lightly. “Turn around.”

“Why?”

His reply was a sharp smack to her cheek and Emma shivered. Oh, he wanted to play, did he? She moaned, leaning into his hand. “You’re going to have to make me, Captain.”

Killian growled dangerously. He picked up his wayward wife and flopped her down on the bed to her happy squeals. Hastily he tugged up her nightgown and pulled it over her head. Taking one end of it in his mouth, he tore at it, tearing it into uneven strips.

Emma watched in awed fascination, waves of heat and need rolling through her. It didn’t matter how often it happened, she loved watching the pirate come out to play. She knew it was an essential part of who he was, even though he’d worked hard to change. She loved the good man he’d become, but she loved the pirate too. She loved every part of him, the way he loved every part of her. “Just what are you going to do to me, Captain?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He gave her his best seductive grin, relishing the way her body reacted. “Now hold out your hands.”

She did so eagerly, biting her lip as he wound the fabric over and over around her wrists. Killian tied it off with his mouth, pressing her now bound arms over her head. She stretched out for him, sighing as he worshiped her body. He paid special attention to her sensitive breasts, sucking each hard peak until she was squirming with pleasure. She clenched her thighs, desperate to ease the ache there. “Oh yes. Yes, yes, yes.”

“My gorgeous Swan.” He eased her legs open, dipping his fingers into her heat. “So wet for me.”

“Oh my god.” She tried to arch up, get more of his touch. “More.”

“Like this?” Killian brought his hand down sharply on her clit, the jolt electrifying her.

 _“Yes!”_ She didn’t care of anyone heard them; let them. She was enjoying herself too much. The sting was delicious, growing more intense with each sharp quick slap to her sensitive nub. Need coiled tighter and tighter, until she could take it no more. She climaxed hard, arching off the bed.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” As much as he loved making love to her, long and slow, he loved this too; the pure carnal way they needed each other. She wasn’t afraid of his darkness, allowing him to bring a touch of it into their bed. He adored her for it. He eased her up, helping her straddle his thighs so he could kiss her deeply. Emma looped her still bound arms over his head, melting into his hungry kiss. She felt him, long and thick against her belly; it fired her blood all over again.

“Hmm, you like your princess dirty, don’t you?” she whispered, sliding her wet core over his cock.

“You have no idea.” He gripped her hip, angling her so the swollen head of his cock pressed against her entrance. They both groaned as he pushed into her stretching her inch by inch. He cupped her ass as she rode him slowly, both of them watching him slide in and out of her. “Fuck, Swan.”

She hummed in pleasure, his cock stroking her just right. “Ugh, so fucking good.”

“Miss me, darling? Did you miss what I can do to you?” He hadn’t been gone that long, but separations—no matter how short—brought them together like this.

“Always miss you.” She could only admit that like this, when she was utterly bare before him. Not just physically, but emotionally. He saw who she was at her core and still loved her. “Always, Killian.”

He kissed her deeply, his left arm stilling her hips and holding her to him. He held her as he laid her back out on the bed, still moving inside her, loving her. “Swan, my Swan.”

She hitched her legs behind his back, holding him to her. “Harder. Jesus.”

He obeyed her, snapping his hips harder, skin smacking, her breathing hitching. She climaxed again, clenching viciously against his cock. He bit hard on his lip, not ready to come himself. Before she could come down, he pulled out of her and flipped her over. Emma felt boneless as his hand glided over her still trembling body. He kissed up her spine, between her shoulder blades, his cock nestled against her ass.

“Still with me?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Good, because I’m not done with you yet.” He spread her legs wider, leaning over her. He was perfectly fine, letting her relax while he did all the work. Emma gasped as he took her _again,_ sinking deep inside her still spasming core. Her fingers fisted the sheet; did he feel bigger like this? She couldn’t tell, but it was good. So good. He rocked slowly, savoring the feel of her, wet and tight around him. “Such a sweet quim, Princess,” he whispered in her ear. “Perfect for fucking.”

Emma bit her lip; she loved when he talked dirty. “More.”

He chuckled darkly. “Bloody insatiable, you are. You crave my cock. _Begging_ to be fucked thoroughly.”

“Yes, Captain. Yes!”

“Show me,” he growled. “Show me how much you need this.” He pulled out of her abruptly, leaving her empty and on edge. She cried out, tossing her hair so she could glare at him. But her pirate simply looked smug. “You know what to do, Princess.”

Her movements were slow, sluggish; she was still a bit addled from her high. But she knew he wouldn’t give her what she wanted until she complied. Still, that didn’t mean she couldn’t torment him. Emma bent between his spread knees, licking a stripe over his swollen sensitive cock. Killian groaned, gathering her hair in his hand. She shivered, relishing her own taste on his skin. She licked him up and down, worshiping him with her tongue, rolling his balls between her fingers.

“That’s it, Swan. That’s it.”

She smiled just before she took the tip of him between her lips and sucked hard. She coupled that with her questing fingers, finding the sensitive spot between his legs. He jerked under her, accidentally bucking into her mouth. Oh, she was cheeky! Yet, he hardly cared, her fingers magic. He was torn between watching her and relaxing into it, the pleasure coiling at the base of his spine. She wasn’t shy, working him enthusiastically. He let her as long as he dared, her mouth driving him dangerously close to the edge. “Such a good girl,” he breathed, gently touching her chin. She released him with a pop; her body felt like it was on fire. Her earlier orgasm seemed like a faint memory; she needed him inside her again. Her pupils were blown wide, her skin flushed. He coaxed her up, their mouths meeting in a passionate kiss.

Emma drew his hand between her legs; he moaned at how wet and swollen she was. “Please, Captain,” she begged softly. “Fuck me. Fuck your princess.”

He rolled them so Emma was on her back once more, her back arching as he plunged deep inside her aching sheath. He held her bound hands over her head, pinning her under him. She cried out in pleasure, reveling in the things he made her feel. With him, sex was never simply an itch to be scratched. It was heaven. They kissed hungrily, each nearing completion.

“Close,” he growled, bottoming out within her. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

“Oh _god_ ,” she gasped, the first tendrils of her orgasm beginning to unfurl. “Right there, Killian. Right there!”

He did his best to do as she bid, pounding her sweet spot over and over and over until she screamed, long and loud, her walls spasming around him. He followed almost instantly, white hot pleasure coursing through his veins, her name on his lips. He rode her until they were both spent; she made a weak sound as he collapsed on top of her. He was still breathing hard when he rolled off her, but she followed, stretching out lazily before snuggling against him.

Emma felt blissed out, sated, boneless. It was utterly perfect. She felt his lips touch her damp brow; she was too weak to respond in kind.

“Still with me?”

“Mmhmm.” Killian chuckled then moved to loosen the fabric around her wrists. He kissed each tenderly; she smiled, even though her eyes were closed. “Before I met you,” she drawled, “I never pegged Captain Hook to be such a softie.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

She opened her eyes, her fingers finding his and squeezing. “In your case, it’s definitely a good thing. But I love the pirate too. You know that, right?”

“Sometimes I wish you didn’t have to.”

“Hey.” She sat up, her hand cupping his scruffy cheek. “You promised, remember? No dwelling on the past.”

“I know. It’s not as easy as it sounds.”

“Believe me, I get it.” She kissed him quickly. “Think of it this way: I’m actually really lucky. It’s like getting two Killian Jones for the price of one.”

That earned her a mischievous grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Don’t ever feel bad about letting the pirate come out to play, babe. It’s part of who you are, and I love you.”

“Love you too, Swan.”

She went to get cleaned up, then returned to their bed. Killian was waiting, welcoming her back into his arms. “We probably should get up soon.”

“Do you think Victoria’s okay?”

“Aye. William’s with her.”

“For how long?” She hoped Melbourne had finally seen the error of his ways and was back for good. She didn’t want to see Victoria get hurt again.

“I think he’s learned his lesson.”

“How did you get him to come back?”

“Honestly, I didn’t do much.” He told her all about his visit to Brocket Hall, the state he’d found his friend in, Leopold’s threats. Emma cursed as he explained what Leopold had done; how despicable! The man truly was vile, and they needed to do something about it. But what?

When he finished, Emma kissed him sweetly. “What was that for?”

“For being a hero.”

“I was hardly heroic, Swan.”

“Sometimes being a hero isn’t about swinging a sword, babe. Sometimes it’s simply being there for a friend and helping them see the good in themselves.” Elsa had done that for her, long ago. She never forgot it. If Killian helped Melbourne find the courage to fight for what he wanted, then he was every bit the hero she knew he was. “And for the record? You’re _my_ hero.”

He looked at her in surprise, his heart threatening to burst. “And you’re mine, my love. Always.”

 

* * *

 

Skerrett nodded curtly at the guards as she passed; she was one of the few who could pass. No one argued with Princess Emma when she requested the guards outside the Queen’s apartments; even Lehzen looked relieved that someone was taking charge. No one—not even Victoria’s mother—could pass unless the Princess had given permission. Skerrett hadn’t been summoned, but she thought it prudent to check on her mistress, just in case.

She’d felt no qualms about leaving the Queen with Lord Melbourne. She knew how they felt about each other; everyone knew, even though they tried to pretend they didn’t. Her Majesty wasn’t as discreet about her feelings as was probably wise, but Skerrett found it endearing. She was so happy, enjoying the flush of first love. Skerrett wasn’t very wise in the ways of romance, but she truly liked the Queen. It was clear that Melbourne made her mistress very, very happy.

Who was she to gainsay her?

Skerrett entered the sitting room; it was still dark. No one had opened the curtains. It wasn’t strictly her job, but Skerrett busied herself with the curtains, warming the room with sunlight. The physician would be back at some point; hopefully, the Queen was doing better.

She tested the bedroom door. It was locked. She supposed that should be cause for alarm, but instead she just smiled. They deserved some time alone. She could wait until she was summoned, then; she had plenty of other tasks. With no queen to attend, she left, shutting the door to the sitting room behind her. Perhaps she could visit Mr. Francatelli before seeing to her other duties? Yes, that sounded like a good idea.

She was about to take the passage down to the kitchens when shouting got her attention. Curious, she dashed back up.

“I am a member of Parliament, I demand to see Her Majesty!”

The guards blocked the stout man’s path. “We can’t let you pass, sir. Not without express orders from Her Highness.”

“The Duchess? I’ll see about that.” The man spun on his heel and started to march away.

“Just where do you think you’re going, mate?” Skerrett stared; it was Captain Jones! Looking very handsome in dark blue, a sword strapped to his hip.

The other man came up short, surprised to be addressed in that manner. “I’m afraid I don’t know you, sir.”

“Captain,” Captain Jones said, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword. “Captain Killian Jones.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “So you’re Jones.”

“And you must be Sir Robert Peel.”

“How do you know that?”

Captain Jones ignored that. “What brings you here, Sir Robert?”

“I only just heard about the accident that befell Her Majesty. I was concerned.”

The way Captain Jones looked at Mr. Peel…Skerrett shivered. In the brief glimpses she’d seen of the Captain, he never struck her as a dangerous man. She’d underestimated him. He was very controlled, giving every appearance of being affable and charming, but there was _something_ about Peel he didn’t like. “It was no accident, Sir Robert.”

Peel bristled. “Then it is even more imperative I see Her Majesty! An investigation must be launched!”

“No need for that. Unless you want to investigate yourself. Or your patron. Or a foreign princeling.”

Peel blanched. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“I know, Peel. I know you’ve been in contact with Leopold. I know all about his little scheme. I would advise you to end such an association if you value your head.”

“You threaten me?”

“Not a threat. A promise. Just who do you think people will believe? The man who saved their Queen’s life or a lowly politician? Your choice.”

Peel opened his mouth to say something, then abruptly closed it. Fists clenched, he gave Captain Jones a vile glare, then marched down the corridor with what little dignity he could muster. Skerrett ducked out of sight quickly, wondering just what that was about. What was going on? Something was afoot. _It’s none of your business,_ she scolded herself. _Stay out of it._ Easier said than done.

* * *

 

Melbourne stirred, momentarily disoriented. Where was he? And why did he ache all over?

More importantly, who was the warm body in his arms?

That was answered easily enough. A mass of dark brown hair concealed her face, but it was unmistakably Victoria. For a wild moment, he thought he was dreaming again, but her steady breathing forced him to acknowledge that it was real. He was really holding her as she slept. Memories of the last few days flooded him; he was both ashamed and relieved at the same time. He’d hurt her, put her in danger, tried to abandon her. Even if she forgave him, how could he forgive himself? She deserved so much more than he could offer her.

But he was done fighting her, done fighting what she meant to him. She’d brought him back to life after so many years of simply existing. Before she came into his world, he was content to wait out his days until he could be reunited with his little ones, if there was such a thing as an afterlife. He wanted to believe there was, but it was hard. He knew too well the harsh realities of life. He could never repay her for what she’d done for him. She’d made his life worth something.

“William?” The bundle in his arms turned, panic in her eyes until they locked with his. “You’re still here.”

“Good morning.” At least, he thought it was morning still. He hadn’t the heart to check. With the curtains drawn it was still dim in the room. “How do you feel?”

She bit her lip. It was adorable. And intoxicating. He’d forgotten how much he was drawn to the little things about her. The urge to kiss her nearly overwhelmed him but he held it in check. They needed to talk, to truly talk. She needed to know the truth before she decided if she truly wanted him in her life, let alone her bed. “Much better, I think. I’ve never been so cold.”

He brushed some hair away from her face. “You were unconscious when we found you.” He let out a breath. “It was one of the most terrifying moments of my life.”

Her face crumpled. “Oh, I am so sorry, Lord M!”

“It is I who should apologize, Ma’am. I behaved abominably.”

“I’m sure you had a good reason.”

Melbourne shook his head. “No, don’t do that, Victoria. Don’t absolve me until you know the truth. Please.”

“So tell me the truth.” She thrust out her chin defiantly; always so stubborn, his Queen.

Gently, he coaxed them to sit up, propping themselves against the enormous headboard, pillows piled against their backs. Victoria slipped her hand into his, needing him to know that there was nothing he could say that would shake her love for him. She didn’t know what words to use; he was clearly very distressed. She hated seeing him hurting like this.

“First, I must apologize for leaving Windsor so abruptly. I would not have done so unless I felt like I had no other choice.”

“What happened?”

“I received a letter from Sir Robert; he intimated that he’d had a breakthrough with your would-be assassin.” He instinctively tightened his hold on her fingers; the idea of her in danger still cut him to the core. Everything he’d done since that fateful day at Kensington was to keep her safe. “It was late; you had already retired. Until I had more definitive information, I thought it best to see what he wanted. I left for Dover House, expecting to meet with Sir Robert.”

Victoria looked at him with those bright curious blue eyes. “Expecting?”

He wished there was another way to do this. Victoria already had a fairly low opinion of Peel; this would not help it. The politician told him to tread lightly, but there was no sense in hiding the truth. There was a question of how much Peel knew about Leopold’s plans, but did that matter? He conspired with a foreign monarch to undermine the government, in the person of the Prime Minister. If the truth came out, Peel would be lucky to escape with his freedom.

Melbourne cleared his throat. “I was lured to Dover House under false pretenses. Your uncle was waiting for me.”

“My _uncle?_ Leopold?”

“The very same.”

She had no words. She did not yet know exactly what her uncle had done, but it was enough to make Lord M believe he had to leave her. She would make him pay for that. Somehow.

William stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. “Victoria, there is no easy way to say this. But I have always endeavored to tell you the truth. I do not wish to stop now.”

“Then please don’t.” Victoria set her jaw, her blue eyes steely. “I want to know.”

So he told her. The entire lurid story. She listened in silence, her fingers tightening around his the only sign of her emotions. He could not fathom what she was feeling. He’d been older than her when Caro’s betrayal became known. He accepted then that he was partly to blame, in fact. His lack of attention drove Caro into Bryon’s arms. But Victoria was still so young. She’d been so sheltered. This was her own blood, threatening to declare her unfit for her birthright, all for his own gain.

It was utterly despicable.

He was surprised when he spotted a tear falling down the apple of her cheek. “I’m so sorry, darling. I did not mean to make you cry.”

Victoria said nothing. She had not even realized she was crying until he spoke. She felt too many things at once. Fury at Leopold. Sadness and disappointment at Peel. Hurt and confusion over her mother. She did not know what to think about Albert. There was only one thing that was pure. Her love for the man in front of her. Once again, he’d fought to keep her safe, even at the cost of his own happiness. She was heartbroken at the pain he’d gone through, all for her.

“Leopold may still carry out his threat,” Melbourne said quietly. “We are courting danger even now. But I can not leave you again. I do not have the strength. When I found out you were missing…I would have never forgiven myself if your last thoughts of me were painful.”

“Oh William!” She was crying in earnest now, throwing decorum aside and flinging herself into his arms. He caught her with an oomph of surprise, but quickly wrapped those strong arms around her. She would not let him go. Not ever. She didn’t care if it cost her crown. In that moment, all she needed was _him._

“Shhh, my darling,” he soothed quietly, rocking her. “I’m here. I’m here.”

She sucked in air, slowly steadying. “I hate him,” she said bitterly. “I _hate_ him!”

“Hate is a strong word. He is still your family.”

“He is no family of mine, Lord M.” She sounded so firm, so definitive, it surprised him. “An enemy monarch threatened my throne. We will have justice.”

“Victoria, are you _certain?_ ” Family or not, going after Leopold would have international repercussions.

“What would you do, if you were in my place?” Then she had a terrible thought. “Do you think Mama knew? Or Albert? Is that why he left me in the woods?”

William kissed her brow, hating seeing her so upset. “Your mother? No. She’s made no secret of her opinion as it pertains to your marriage, but she would never condone a plan that removed you from the throne.” Not even the Duchess was that callous. As misguided at it was, everything the Duchess of Kent had done was to help her daughter fulfill her destiny.

“And Albert?”

He had to be honest. “I don’t know,” he replied. “He’s never struck me as the conspiratorial type, but I was wrong about Leopold. I regret that now.”

She could not stand the pain in her lover’s green eyes. Spontaneously, she cupped his cheeks and drew his mouth to hers. It had been some time since he shaved; stubble pricked her skin. The moment their lips touched peace washed over her. This was what she had missed so much. She’d never been so bold before, always letting him kiss her first before responding. However, everything that had kept them apart seemed trivial now. In this moment, she was an ordinary woman, kissing the man she loved with her whole heart.

William cupped the back of her head, weaving his fingers into her long brown tresses. Her kiss seemed to unlock something within, all his suppressed longing for her crashed over him like a tidal wave. He pulled her closer, his other hand squeezing her hip. He was suddenly all too aware of her thin nightgown and the fact that they were in her bed. He knew he should pull away, should stop this, but he’d missed her so much. He never thought he’d get to have her like this again.

“Victoria,” he murmured between her impassioned kisses. “Victoria.”

Her lower back hurt from the awkward angle; she released him reluctantly, her skin tingling. “I am so sorry, William,” she said at last.

He tilted his head, wondering what on earth she could be sorry for. “You need never apologize for kissing me, darling.”

That got her to smile a little. “You should not give me such license, my lord.”

“You are the Queen. You may do as you please.” That wasn’t strictly true in all things, but it was nice to pretend. “I am merely a humble servant.”

She shook her head, her face growing serious. “I am sorry for what happened. The King should not have threatened you so. I should have banished him when I had the chance.”

“It is not your fault, Victoria.”

“Isn’t it? It’s my throne he wants. My empire. He can not have it directly, so he has Albert as his puppet!”

“That may be a bit harsh. We do not yet know Albert’s perspective.”

“I don’t want to know,” she said petulantly. He left her in the forest! She might have died! And for what? Because he was jealous! Suddenly, she burst out laughing. Albert was jealous of Lord M! It was delightful!

Melbourne looked at her in confusion. “Something amusing?”

“I’ve just realized something,” she said. “About Albert.”

“What is that?”

“Lord M, I do believe he is jealous of you!”

“We have done nothing to disabuse him of that,” William pointed out. They’d behaved quite scandalously, but in light of everything, William no longer cared. “I have to imagine it’s quite frustrating for him. He came here expecting to woo the Queen of England.”

Victoria tutted. “That is why—even if I wasn’t in love with _you_ , Lord M—I would have been quite unable to warm to him. Albert cares nothing for _me._ When he looks at me, all he sees is the _Queen._ But you…” She touched his face, stroking his cheekbone. “You’ve always seen me.”

“You were dazzling. From the first moment I saw you.”

She colored; she must look a mess! Yet, her lover’ gaze held nothing but adoration and love. “Never leave me again. I could not bear it.”

He turned his head and kissed her palm tenderly. Before she absolved him completely, he needed to apologize. “I must apologize to you, Victoria. My only thought was to keep you safe. But I should have been braver. I should have confided in you, rather than shutting you out. And by doing so, I placed you in danger. If you can forgive an old man his moment of weakness, I will gladly stay by your side. Always.”

She leaned in, pressing her forehead against his. “If you feel that you need my forgiveness, William, you have it. My uncle is the one to blame here, not you.”

“But…”

She shook her head. “I knew something was wrong. I knew you would never leave me of your own volition.” She smiled a little. “I was planning on going to Brocket Hall,” she confided. “This very day, in fact.”

“How I wish I could take you there right now.”

“One day soon. We could visit the rooks.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Appropriate, don’t you think? Seeing as I’ve mated for life?”

Even now, it was hard to believe that this wonderful creature loved him. “Is that so?”

“Well, it would be if I could get a certain gentleman to answer a very important question.” He’d told her more than once that she would know when the right time came. This felt right. Even though she was in her dressing gown and he in his shirtsleeves—most improper—she didn’t want to wait anymore. It was time to seize her future.

Melbourne considered her. He searched her eyes for doubt or unease, but she seemed perfectly serene. Confident even. “I believe the gentleman would be receptive, Ma’am.”

Her smile would have lit up London. She’d wanted this for so long; she expected to be more nervous. But this was William. Her Lord M. Her constant companion. Her friend. Her lover. And very soon, her _husband._ She wet her lips, not missing the way his gaze dropped quickly to her lips. Then she took his hand in hers. “Lord Melbourne, would you marry me?”

There was no hesitation, not anymore. Leopold could go to hell. “It would be my honor, Your Majesty.”

Relief washed through her. Even now, there was a tiny corner of her heart that was afraid. Afraid of rejection. Afraid that she wasn’t good enough. That voice sounded exactly Sir John Conroy.

She would never listen to it again!

“Victoria?”

She ignored his question, the urge to kiss him overwhelming. So she did. She brushed her lips over his, mewling when he held her to him. Victoria moved, clumsily hiking up her nightgown so she could get closer. She rose up on her knees, still trying to kiss him.

“Here, let me.” He showed her how to straddle his thighs, sucking in a wonderous breath as her weight settled in his lap. It was very intimate, somehow it felt more intimate than all they’d shared. His hands rested on her thighs, her skin now deliciously warm. She’d been so cold when he found her in the forest; now she was flushed and full of life. “How do you feel?”

“I am the happiest woman on earth.”

He smiled. “No, I meant, _how do you feel?_ You had quite the ordeal.” He needed to be sure she was alright.

Her face fell. “Oh. Truthfully?” He nodded. “I am well recovered.” She’d had Lord M in her bed all night, keeping her warm. Yes, she was quite well.

“No illness?”

She shook her head. “I think I was simply very cold. And tired. I do not recall the last time I did so much walking!” Then she remembered. “Dash! How is he?”

“Killian brought him back. Emma—Lady Portman—is looking after him.”

She sagged in relief. “That’s good. I must thank her.” She gifted him an impish grin. _“Now_ will you kiss me, Lord M?”

Rather than answer her, he slid his hand higher up her thighs. She looked at him in awe as he exposed more and more of her skin. He felt deliciously naughty; their formal engagement making him bold. Much bolder than he would have imagined being a few days ago. Why should he not touch the woman he loved?

“William?”

His hands were on at the juncture of her thighs and hips, her drawers giving him pause. It would be so easy. Yes, they were betrothed now, but there were still obstacles to be overcome before she would truly be his.

Why did he stop? Victoria was very confused; his hands on her were heaven! Even better than her dreams! She wondered briefly if she’d done something wrong, but quickly dismissed that. He looked thoughtful, not offended. She reached out carefully, gingerly stroking his cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“Wrong?” He chuckled dryly. “Nothing. You, Victoria, are perfect.”

Feeling a bit bolder, she ran her fingers over his bare forearms, right to where they disappeared under her nightgown. “Then touch me, William.”

“If only it were that simple.”

“And why is it not?”

“Because if I did everything I’ve long imagined, I’d be guilty of treason. I am not your husband. Yet.”

Victoria rolled her eyes. “But you want me?”

“Very much.”

“I’m giving you permission. I am so tired of waiting!”

He looked pained. “No one knows I’m here, aside from our friends and your dresser. If we are discovered…”

“Skerrett?”

“Yes, she made no objection when I declared I was staying with you.”

“I trust her,” Victoria said firmly. “She will not disturb us.”

“The doctor promised to come.”

“Hell take the doctor! I am fine!” she cried, frustration making her words harsher than she intended. After everything they’d been through, her beloved was still trying to be careful with her, to protect her. Part of her loved him for it, but she’d waited so very long for this! William had only granted her a taste of love; she wanted all of it!

“Victoria.”

His tone made her still. She regarded him with wary curiosity. He rarely spoke to her like that; he was usually so tender and respectful. Yet, she liked this too. His gaze was heated, those eyes roving over her form. She began to feel warm all over, her breathing increased. When his hands finally started moving again, she nearly jumped out of her skin. Over her hips, her belly. She began to tremble, the material of her nightgown bunched around his arms.

“Don’t misunderstand me,” he said in a low voice. “I want you, Victoria. So much I can hardly think straight. But darling, I _must._ Do you understand why?”

His touch was a new kind of torture, those clever fingers stroking the underside of her breasts. No one had ever touched her so intimately! She was helpless against her body’s response; she was wet and growing wetter by the moment. “Because you could get me with child,” she breathed.

He nodded. “Not only that, but yes.”

“There are…ways around that.”

He tilted his head, curious. “And just how do you know that, sweetheart?”

“Emma. I asked and she…explained.” Victoria swallowed. “I know I must have an heir, Lord M. But I do not want to have one right away. Is that selfish of me?”

He brushed his thumb over her hardening nipple. She shuddered. “No, love. Whenever you are ready. But there must not be doubt about our union,” he cautioned. “If people suspect that I’ve had you before our marriage, it could jeopardize the succession.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” she said, only a little bitterly. It was difficult to muster anger when he was making her feel so good.

“Does that feel good?” She nodded, her eyes closed. He might not be able to take her maidenhead until they were truly married, but there were plenty of ways to bring her pleasure. He intended to show her every one of them. “May I?”

Victoria’s eyes snapped open, the tug on her nightgown making his intentions clear. Her heart raced, fear slithered down her spine. She’d never been naked with anyone. Ever. Yet, William’s eyes held nothing but love. Slowly, she nodded again, unable to speak. He pulled the flimsy material of her nightgown over her head and tossed it aside. Victoria instinctively tried to cover herself, suddenly shy.

William reached out, gently coaxing her to lower her arms. Her cheeks burned as he took her in for the very first time. “Beautiful.”

“Don’t tease me, Lord M.”

He shook his head. “You are stunning.” To prove it to her, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her as he changed their position on the bed. Victoria squealed as she suddenly found herself on her back, her lover on top of her. William lowered his lips to hers, plying her with deep fervent kisses, helping her relax. She sank her fingers in his hair, marveling as how _incredible_ it felt to have him with her like this. She felt something long and hard digging into her belly; an intense wave of want rolled through her. She whined, squirming, not fully understanding what she needed so badly.

“William,” she gasped. “Oh William.”

God, he loved the way she said his name! It never sounded so good. He ducked his head, pressing kisses to her sternum, one hand cupping her breast. “Do you trust me, Victoria?”

She nodded quickly. “Only you, William.”

“Then relax.” He bent once more, mouth hot on her skin. She tasted better than he’d imagined. Those low necked dresses she frequently wore taunted him; her bosom often threatened to spill out. Nude she was even more glorious, her breasts firm and round, fitting perfectly in his hands. He took her nipple between his lips, licking and sucking experimentally; Victoria cried out. “Shhh, love,” he scolded.

Victoria moaned softly. She felt like she was aflame, the ache between her thighs more intense than she could ever remember. “Don’t stop. Please!” she pleaded softly.

“I’ll take care of you.” He pressed a parting kiss to her skin, then sat up. She glared at him, but quickly sobered when he fingered the edge of her drawers. There was only one answer to the question in his eyes.

“Yes.” It was harder than she expected, getting the drawers off. Once she was completely naked, Victoria shivered. She was still a little shy, but she was much more fascinated by her lover. William pulled his shirt over his head, leaving him bare from the waist up. Oh, he was handsome! Instinctively, she wet her lips; her fingers itched to touch him. The bulge in his trousers was clear now, but he left them on.

William caught her staring and found himself flushing in embarrassment. Just a little. She was still so innocent, in so many ways. Yet she was giving herself to him. He was the luckiest man in the world.

“You blush, Lord M?” she teased.

“It has been quite some time since I…” He trailed off, belatedly realizing she might not enjoy the reminder that there had been others before her. He’d not been celibate, before and after Caro. How could he show her that nothing compared to being with _her?_

She bit her lip, not liking the emotion that curled in her belly. She wasn’t naïve. She did not like to think about it, but she knew there were others before her. She would not let his past cast a shadow over their present. She loved him, and he was hers! Victoria pushed herself up, settling on her knees before him. She reached out, her small hands touched his chest. William sucked in a breath; how long had it been since a woman touched him thus? And this was _Victoria._ His Queen. His lover. The woman who wanted to be his wife.

He was warmer than she expected. She’d never seen a man shirtless before; she was certain Lord M was perfect. He was lean but muscular with broad shoulders and strong arms. His breathing was steady as she explored, but she thought she felt his heart beating under his skin.

“Come here.”

She moved closer, but she wasn’t fast enough. He lifted her into his lap, fusing his mouth to hers. A surprised noise caught in her throat, but she felt nothing but happiness. He kissed her like he wanted to devour her; she clung to him. He kissed along her jaw, her throat, her collar; need coiled in her belly once more. Her hips moved of their own volition, rocking against him, seeking friction. “William,” she panted.

She was slowly killing him, her warm sex grinding over his clothed erection. She was ruining his trousers, but he hardly cared. “Fuck, Victoria.”

She stilled, his language catching her by surprise. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, love, what you’re doing is very right.” If slowly driving him mad.

“Should I stop?”

What he was thinking wasn’t a good idea. But she was right about one thing. Waiting was torture. “Do you remember what you said about…precautions?” She nodded. “Trust me?”

“Of course.” She slithered off him, staring wide eyed as he methodically loosened his trousers. It was rude to stare, but she was so curious! She’d felt things in some of their more intimate moments, but she’d never seen a naked man before. Taking him in, she gasped softly. He was…bigger than she expected? It rested against his belly, erect and long. “Oh my.”

He couldn’t read her expression. “Are you afraid?”

“No, just…may I?”

He groaned; how many times had he imagined her touching him? Carefully, she reached out, running her fingers over his shaft. The skin there was velvety smooth and hot to the touch. The contrast of hard and soft was fascinating to her. The tip of her finger stroked the belled head and his cock twitched in response, causing her to jump back.

“Sorry!”

He was gentle. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Here, like this.” He drew her hand back, showing her how to curl her fingers around him. It took all his self-control to remain still while she explored. He could tell she was nervous but determined. Her blue eyes had that look, the one that dared anyone to challenge her. He had no desire to challenge her, merely to teach. She was a blank slate; he could mold her however he wished.

And yet he had no desire to shape her. He wanted her to learn what she liked, to find her own way. In this, he would be as he always was, a guide. He simply wanted to love her.

She felt him grow harder under her clumsy ministrations, his face contorted in pleasure. “Is this okay?”

He nodded. “Yes, love.” He leaned down to kiss her, hoping to reassure her. She melted into him, her hand stilling. He didn’t mind; he was more concerned with putting her at ease. Gently, he eased her back onto the bed, her brown hair fanned out beneath her. He spread her legs and knelt between them. Victoria fought the urge to cover herself again, though she didn’t know why. It wasn’t like her lover hadn’t tasted her before. Somehow, she felt more vulnerable now. He smiled at her, hands stroking her inner thighs. She slowly relaxed, her breathing growing shallower. His lips touched her skin, pressing a line of kisses higher and higher up her leg. She could see him this time, watch as he pleasured her. It was shockingly intimate; she yearned for more. He kept his eyes on hers, his fingers stroking through her wet swollen flesh. “We can still stop.”

“No!” she cried. “Please don’t.”

“You smell delicious.” Finally, he leaned in to taste her. She moaned as he licked a long stripe through her sex, his tongue curling around her clit. Unencumbered by petticoats and skirts, he could see her reactions, relish her sounds of pleasure. She moaned and panted; it felt like she was drowning. She gripped the sheet tightly, eyes squeezed shut as he tongued her. God, she’d missed this! He devoured her, paying special attention to her swollen nub. The pressure in her belly mounted; her head thrashed.

Look how wanton she was! William groaned; how he longed to be inside her! He had to be patient. He could feel her trembling, her orgasm so close. He needed to see her fall. Not taking his eyes away from her face, he pressed two fingers deep inside her; she was so wet that she accepted him easily. Victoria gasped and cried out, her body suddenly out of her control. She canted her hips, biting her lip at the delicious feel of his fingers moving inside her. She was lost in sensation, desperate to climax yet not wanting this feeling to end.

William gave her no choice; his lips wrapped around her clit and sucked hard. She arched painfully as she climaxed, her mouth open in a silent scream. Pleasure pulsed through her, completing and ruining her all at once. William groaned as he watched her, longing making his chest ache. Only a few days ago, he thought he’d never see her again, let alone so intimately.

He would never take this for granted. Not ever.

Victoria panted hard, her lungs burning for air. She shivered as aftershocks gripped her, her lover still teasing her sensitive flesh. William placed a parting kiss just above her mound as he moved up her body, his scruffy chin glistening with her essence. She should be repulsed, but the sight of him only aroused her. Still, she was shocked when he kissed her, his tongue sliding past her lips. He tasted different than she remembered; it hit her that she was tasting _herself._   She wasn’t sure how to feel about that, but it was hard to think when she finally got to enjoy being skin to skin with the man she loved.

He was probably moving too fast, but she made most of his good sense fly from his head. She was soft in all the right places and so responsive. He couldn’t help but want to wring every last drop of pleasure he could from her lithe form.

“Oh!” She gasped, suddenly very aware of his shaft hard against her belly.

“Is this okay, love?” he asked, concerned.

“What…what are you doing?”

He hitched up her knees, exposing her sex more fully. “Do you know easy it would be to take you, Victoria?” he growled, leaning forward so his cock touched her swollen outer lips. “Right now.”

She shivered, more wetness flooding her sex. Oh, he was teasing her! And it was such exquisite torment. “But you won’t?” she guessed. She could see how much he longed for her; she was sure the same need was reflected in her eyes. This was what she’d dreamed about, but she couldn’t have it. Not yet.

He shook his head. Slowly, he leaned over her, pressing his cock more firmly against her. Then his mouth was at her ear. “No sullying the Queen’s virtue today, darling,” he whispered. “But very, very soon.” He punctuated his words with shallow thrusts of his hips, coating himself in her arousal. They both moaned softly. “Can you be patient for me, Victoria?”

She nodded. “Anything,” she whined. “Please don’t stop.” She was beyond caring; if he’d taken her maidenhead she would have screamed for joy! What did it matter when he was to be her husband? But she was sure Lord M knew best. He always did.

“I think I’d rather watch.” He moved abruptly, leaving her bereft and confused. She bit her lip, frustrated and about to protest. Then she saw him pat his lap. “Come here, Victoria.”

She did as he bid, once more straddling his lap. She was more confident this time, no longer shy about her nudity. How could she be shy when he looked at her like that? Like she was the only woman in the world?

He drew her in for a kiss, slow and languid. He wanted to put her at ease. She responded eagerly, kissing him back with an innocent fervor that he found incredibly endearing. She would be glorious one day, but he loved this too. Watching her learn was one of his great joys.

She couldn’t help but notice his length nestled between her legs, hard and straining. “Show me what to do?”

He ran his hands down her sides until he could grip her hips. “Like this.” She responded to the pressure on her hips, rolling them slowly. She felt awkward at first, clumsy, but gradually, they found a rhythm. She slid over the length of him, sighing. It felt so good. She watched William’s face, fascinated by the pleasure she saw there. She’d done that! He felt that because of her! “That’s it,” he whispered. “Just like that.”

She gripped his shoulders, anchoring herself as she ground over him. She could feel the now familiar ache building between her thighs again, but she wanted to see _his_ pleasure. She knew he’d been hiding it from her, not wanting to frighten her. “Please, William,” she breathed. “Let me see you.”

His eyes snapped open; the longing and love in hers floored him. She truly did want him. Impossibly, wonderfully, this young woman wanted _him._ She wanted him with her whole heart. She wanted to share her life with him. “My Victoria.”

She nodded. “Yours.” She kissed him, her rhythm faltering a little. “Tell me what you need.”

There was so much he needed, but he would have to settle for the moment. “Faster,” he bit out, eyes drawn to his lap. His cock glistened with her arousal; he was very close. _“Faster.”_

She did as she was bid; it was much easier now that she had the hang of it. He moaned loudly, his head falling back against the headboard. Victoria bit her lip; if she rolled her hips just right, the hard ridge of him rubbed her swollen nub.

Her small gasp of pleasure drew him from his haze. He had the Queen of England in his lap, wantonly grinding them both to orgasm. It was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen. Her climax took her by surprise, her nails digging into his shoulders as she fell. The pain triggered his own high, a deep groan tumbling from his lips as he came. Long thick ropes of his seed splashed over his stomach, making a mess of their quasi-coupling.

Victoria leaned against him, eyes closed, struggling to catch her breath. William’s arms came around her, holding her as she trembled. “Shh, it’s alright, love. I’m right here.”

She sighed, blissfully happy and sated. She’d never felt so good. “Do you think me sad, Lord M?”

He touched her chin, coaxing her to look at him. “Perhaps I’m merely trying to convince myself that this is real. That you are truly in my arms.”

Her face softened. “If it is a dream, then we are experiencing the same one. I missed you so much.”

“And I you. It nearly killed me to be away from you.”

“We are here now,” she reminded him. “That is all that matters.”

“Still, there is work to be done.” He stroked her cheek. “I’ll have to resign immediately.”

She frowned. “Must you?” she asked, sounding a little petulant.

“Yes,” he said gently. “For I find myself in the most _compromising_ positions.”

She giggled. “Very scandalous,” she agreed. She looked down, flushing at the mess. “Oh.”

He found his cheeks reddening. “I should clean up. Apologies, love.”

She touched her finger to his lips. “No, William. If I am to be your wife, then we must share everything.” She kissed them swiftly, then nimbly climbed from his lap. The floor was cold but she ignored it, crossing quickly to the waiting basin. Skerrett usually left some linen for her; there it was! She plucked it up and hurried back with it.

William accepted her gift, carefully cleaning the sticky mess from his skin. She watched in him fascination, not put off in the slightest. When he was finished, he tossed the rag aside. “You must be cold.”

She shrugged. “I really am fine, William.” To prove it, she did not bother finding her nightgown. Instead, she stretched out beside him and tugged the blanket up over them. He gathered her in his arms, pressing a kiss to her hairline.

“We should not linger too long,” he murmured. “Someone will come looking for you.”

She sighed. It was all still too complicated for her. They’d been parted for days; she wanted more _time._ Time to explore this newfound intimacy they’d discovered. “And you. You are still Prime Minister.”

“Not for long. I’ll be submitting my resignation before the day is out.”

“William…”

“You know I must. The Crown must be impartial. It will be quite a battle, convincing the Privy Council that my influence will be minimal. I’ve already got the letter; I’m simply thankful to be posting it under happier circumstances.”

“You already have it?” she asked, surprised.

“It was the price,” he explained. “Your uncle knew that you would never look at Albert twice with me at the palace daily. He needed me out of way, so Albert could swoop in and soothe your broken heart.”

Fury at her uncle’s high-handed behavior threatened to overwhelm her again. How dare he! The arrogance! “He would have been disappointed,” she said firmly. “I resolved not marry, if I could not have you.”

That shook him. “Victoria…”

“I have a duty. I know, Lord M. To see to the succession. Why must that come at the price of my happiness? I have many relatives; any one of them could succeed me.” She kissed his mouth. “But none of that matters now, because you’ve agreed to marry me.”

“We are not married yet.”

“Perhaps not, but we will. I believe that. We can weather any storm, William. Together.” It was something she’d learned from Emma. Having the one you truly love by your side was everything.

Her confidence made him believe it too. “I’m not going anywhere,” he assured her. He cupped her cheek. “I made a promise to myself, when we were searching for you.”

“What was that?”

“To do whatever it took to marry you. I can not lose you, Victoria. Not again.”

“Oh, Lord M.” She hugged him tightly, hurting for all he had gone through. They were together now, and nothing would tear them apart again.

He stroked her back lovingly. “Come, we must dress before someone truly does appear at the door.”

“Must you go?”

He nodded. “For a time. Until the doctor has seen you.”

She scowled. “He will try to keep me in bed. There is nothing wrong with me!”

He smirked. “Surely staying in bed all day isn’t all bad?”

She swatted at his chest. “You’re being cruel, Lord M.” Her bed would be very lonely indeed once he left it. Who knew how long it would be until he could return?

“Perhaps a compromise then.”

“I’m listening.” He leaned in close and explained his idea. She giggled in delight and nodded her ascent. “Very well. I am most eager to see Emma and Killian.”

“We could share our good news; I’m sure they would love to hear it.”

“I want to tell the Privy Council as soon as possible.”

Always so impatient, his Queen. “All in good time.” He kissed her brow, then forced himself from the bed. He found her nightgown and handed it to her, then proceeded to dress himself. Once he was mostly presentable, he turned to bid her farewell. “I’ll see you very soon, Ma’am.”

“I will be waiting, Lord M.”

 

* * *

 

“I am perfectly fine,” Victoria said for what felt like the hundred time. “This is most unnecessary.”

The doctor did not look convinced. He insisted on continuing his examination, poking and prodding her until there was nothing else he could do. “You seem well,” he conceded, snapping his bag shut.

“Because I am well.”

“I must still insist you rest, Majesty. Exposure can be a tricky business. You may not show signs of illness now, but that doesn’t mean you won’t.”

She sighed. Thankfully, Lord M had anticipated this. It was easier to accept when she planned on quietly flouting the doctor’s orders. “Very well, Doctor. We will heed your advice for the moment. But I will still see to my boxes.”

The doctor looked shocked. “Ma’am, I must insist…”

“I can do so perfectly fine from here,” she shot right back. “I will not neglect my duties because you are worried I may develop a cold!” After Lord M slipped out of her apartment, she’d summoned Miss Skerrett. An hour later, Victoria was bathed and dressed her simplest day gown, “resting” in her sitting room. “You are dismissed, Doctor.”

He didn’t look happy about it, but he obeyed. Victoria remembered that this was the physician her mother had once recommended; perhaps it was time she made inquiries about finding a new one. One more suited to her tastes.

“Will there be anything else, Ma’am?”

“No, Miss Skerrett. Thank you.” Then she reconsidered. “Could you ask Princess Emma and Captain Jones to come by?”

Skerrett curtsied and hurried off, leaving Victoria alone. The moment the door closed she jumped up, impatiently awaiting Lord M’s return. He’d only been gone a few hours, but she missed him. She’d wondered if their newfound intimacy was written all over her face; she certainly felt different. She may technically still be a maiden, but she no longer felt like one. She was confident, happy, and ready to fight for what she wanted.

A knock got her attention. “Victoria?”

She whirled around. “Emma! Dash!” Victoria hurried over, taking the dog from her friend’s arms. “How are you, Dash?” He barked happily, trying to lick her face. “You certainly seem better!”

“He’s still got a splint, but he should be fine,” Emma said, smiling at her friend.

“Did you give Lady Portman any trouble?” Dash just barked, already trying to squirm out of her hold. “Fine, fine.” She put him down; Dash curled up on the floor, content.

“I gave Emma—Lady Portman—the day off,” Emma explained. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Yes, I’m sure she’s exhausted. I’m supposed to be resting anyway.”

“I can see that,” Emma replied with a knowing smile.

Victoria huffed. “There’s nothing wrong with me, but no one will listen.”

“We’ll gladly keep you company, if you want.”

“I was hoping you would. Where’s Killian? I must thank him!”

“He was right behind me.” Emma turned; the women heard voices coming from the hall. “Ah, looks like our men found each other.”

They entered a moment later, deep in conversation. They broke off when they spotted their royal ladies waiting for them. Killian drifted to Emma’s side, wrapping his arm around her waist. She tilted her head curiously, but he shook his head in reply. Everything would come out soon enough. Melbourne made sure to shut the door firmly behind him before turning to bow to his Queen.

Victoria couldn’t suppress her smile as he knelt before her and kissed her hand. “Ma’am.”

“Lord M.”

“What was the doctor’s verdict?”

“It was as I predicted. He wants me to stay in bed.” They shared a knowing smirk, memories of the morning shining in their eyes.

Emma shared a look with Killian; something was definitely going on with their friends. Could they finally have talked and sorted things out? They certainly looked much happier than they’d been before Melbourne’s abrupt departure. Her curiosity was through the roof! Emma cleared her throat. “Um, we can go…”

Victoria snapped out it. “No! No, we’d like you to stay, wouldn’t we, Lord M?”

Melbourne nodded. “Definitely. In fact, we have some news we’d like to share.”

“Shall we sit?” Victoria’s sitting room possessed two couches, elegantly carved and covered in velvet. Victoria smiled as William took his place by her side. Slipping her hand into his, she faced her dear friends. “First, I’d like to thank both of you,” she said, unable to keep the emotion out of her voice. “Without you, our present happiness would not be possible. As such, we wanted you both to be the first to know.” She shared a look with William, who smiled back at her. He looked happy, which filled her heart with joy. “I’ve asked William to marry me and he’s accepted. Finally.”

Emma grinned. “Congratulations!”

“Aye, mate, that’s wonderful news,” Killian added. He knew how much this turn of events meant to his friend. Killian was the happiest man in all the realms when Emma agreed to marry him.

“We’re so happy for you,” Emma continued.

“Yes, well, the fight is only beginning,” William said wryly. “Leopold is still out there. I doubt he will take the news as well.” He hated bringing up Victoria’s uncle, but he was only one of the many obstacles to their marriage.

Killian nodded. “I may have some news about that. Our friend Sir Robert Peel was here this morning. He tried to force his way past the guards.”

William tightened his grip on Victoria’s hand. “I take it he failed?”

“Aye, he and I shared an unpleasant word.” Briefly, he explained the encounter, especially the way the man left with his tail tucked firmly between his legs.

Victoria looked worried. “Do you think he’s already gone to my uncle?”

Melbourne nodded. “It’s possible, even probable.”

“Should I summon him?” She considered Peel the worst sort of person, but she wanted to believe that his loyalty to England was greater than whatever her uncle had promised him.

“I think we need to diffuse Leopold’s threat first,” Melbourne said thoughtfully. “Once your uncle is no longer a factor, Peel should fall in line.” At least he hoped so.

“I’m sure we can be persuasive,” Killian added. “He looked quite terrified when he left.”

“But how do we deal with Leopold?” Emma asked.

“With the truth,” Victoria replied, still looking at William. “You always said an English marriage would be popular. If the papers find out what happened to me…” There would be no more talk of a foreign match. It meant hurting Albert. But given the way he’d behaved, she wasn’t particularly aggrieved about that. It would hurt her mother too. And Ernest.

“Victoria, are you certain this is the best course?” William was used to the viciousness of the British press. If this did not go well, she would be their target once more.

“We do it in stages. Discredit my uncle, reveal his real plot to gain England. Then later, we can reveal our engagement. It will give us time to convince the Privy Council.” She hated the delay. She wanted to marry William as soon as possible. However, if they were not prudent, she might not get to marry him at all.

William nodded. “It’s a good plan. Complicated by the fact that I’m about to resign.” They could not face the Privy Council with him as Prime Minister. It would not do.

“Then perhaps we need to have a word with Sir Robert, sooner rather than later,” Killian muttered.

“Yes, I believe you’re correct, Killian.” When his Whig government fell, the Tories would need to take its place. Peel, for better or worse, still led the Tories.

Victoria stood, her chin held high. “The sooner the better, yes?” Everyone nodded. She went to her desk and wrote out a summons, sealing with the royal seal. Now the battle could truly begin.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, an update! Apologies for lateness, I've been working on a couple of time sensitive special projects, one of which I can't post yet. But I managed to work this in. I hope you like it.

Melbourne laid his book aside, turning his attention to the petite woman who paced nearby. Victoria was notoriously impatient, but he knew this was more than that. They were waiting for Sir Robert Peel; the turncoat had been summoned to the palace a few hours earlier. Melbourne was starting to believe the man was keeping them waiting, on purpose. Either that, or he’d already left the city like a coward. Killian had told him more about his encounter with the man earlier in the day; it was impossible to predict how Peel would react to being backed in a corner. For he undoubtedly was.

Melbourne did not doubt that—in Peel’s mind—he had good intentions. As much as William disagreed with him politically, he believed Peel cared about England. Enough to undermine his Queen, a queen he looked down on due to her sex? Possibly. For there was no doubt in William’s mind that if the monarch’s name was Victor instead of Victoria, none of this would be happening. How a nation that gloried in the name Elizabeth could still be so backward about the idea of a female monarch was beyond him. Victoria genuinely cared about her people; her people were coming to love her as they should.

William couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of them, for their love was right and proper. His would bring her more trouble than he was worth. But he could not abandon her again. The first time he rejected her nearly killed him. The second time—those fleeting moments where he wondered if he would ever see her again—was even worse. The only greater pain he’d suffered was the loss of his precious Augustus. He could not endure losing her again. He would not.

“Ma’am, is it your goal to wear a ring in the rug?”

Victoria looked at him, surprised. “Lord M?”

He uncrossed his legs and stood, a small smile on his face as he closed the space between them. “Didn’t the doctor warn you to rest?” he teased.

She huffed. “I am fine.”

He touched her chin, quietly reveling that—in private at least—he could now take such liberties with her person. “I know, love. I’m teasing.”

She deflated. “Apologies, Lord M. I am afraid I am not myself.”

“You will be fine,” he assured her. Her fury was truly something to behold. He had no doubt she would have Peel quaking in his boots.

“What is taking him so long? Shouldn’t he have been here by now?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know, Ma’am.”

“You do not have to call me that when we’re alone, William.”

“But we’re not alone.” Emma and Killian were nearby, talking quietly. William truly appreciated their support; he knew Victoria did as well. They would need all the friends they could get in the days ahead.

Victoria looked up at him with those blue eyes, mischievousness shining there. “Afraid of getting into trouble, Lord M?”

“With you, Ma’am? Always.” He couldn’t stop smiling though. She was going to be his, at last. She might be the death of him, but it would be worth it. She was worth it. He was pleased that the change in their relationship did not seem to diminish their playful banter. But there was an undercurrent to it now. He knew how soft her skin was. He touched her intimately, watched her fall apart for him. In turn, he’d gotten a taste of _her_ touch; it only made him want more. He wanted to lock them away, love her properly.

He would simply have to be patient a little while longer.

Victoria shivered under her lover’s intense gaze. She was frozen, her breathing shallow as he undressed her with his eyes. That simple look set her skin alight, made her core ache for him. How long would it be until she could feel his hands on her again? It felt like it had been ages, but it had only been a few hours ago.

A knock broke the spell. Victoria stepped back, smoothing down her skirts. She was still in her day dress, but now, her choice was deliberate. She wanted to drive home to Sir Robert what his betrayal had wrought. She was fine, but it could have been so much worse. What if William hadn’t found her? Albert had just _left_ her. She couldn’t forget that. At the moment, she wasn’t in the mood to forgive either. Lord M believed they needed to hear his side of it before she made any rash decisions. Regardless, Albert had to leave. It wouldn’t do to have her jilted cousin around when she was about to introduce Lord M to the world as her betrothed. She would miss Ernest though. Emma had told her about their conversation; he truly did seem to have her best interests at heart.

Mr. Penge entered the room. “Sir Robert Peel, Ma’am.”

“Show him in, Penge.”

“Here, Ma’am?”

Victoria drew herself up to her full height. “Yes, Penge. Thank you.”

Melbourne stepped back, a couple of paces behind her and to her right, ready to support her, should she need it. As always. That was his calling, to love and support the incredible woman before him.

Emma and Killian rose as well, moving to Victoria’s other side. This was her fight. But Emma had a good feeling about this; she couldn’t explain why. She was genuinely happy for her friends, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that this would help them get home. Was this the story that Henry had been trying to tell in his book? He’d told them to keep doing what they were doing; honestly, the only thing she and Killian had truly done was help Victoria and William. Perhaps if they could make things right, then they could get home themselves.

She’d witnessed crazier things in her life.

Victoria lifted her chin ever so slightly as Peel entered. He looked terrible. His clothes were slightly wrinkled, his eyes wary and shadowed, hair hastily combed. Briefly, he took in the quartet arrayed against him before ducking into a short bow. “You summoned me, Ma’am?”

Victoria did not hold out her hand to be kissed. She didn’t think she could stand it. “I did. We have much to discuss, Sir Robert.”

“I am at your service, Ma’am.”

She titled her head slightly. “Are you, Sir Robert? Are you truly in my service or my uncle’s?”

That took him aback, which made Killian growl dangerously. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, Ma’am.”

“You’re a liar, Sir Robert,” Killian snapped.

“Killian,” Emma whispered. “Don’t.”

“But Swan…”

“It’s alright, Captain,” Victoria said, grateful to him all over again. He and Emma had done so much for her and William; she didn’t know how to repay them. “We are most grateful.” She turned back to Peel. “It’s pointless to pretend, Sir Robert. Let us try to be honest with each other, shall we?”

The man fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable. “Ma’am, any correspondence between myself and the King had been greatly exaggerated. He wished to know my opinion on a few topics pertaining to the Continent.”

“Like my marriage to my cousin, Albert?”

Peel blanched, caught. “That may have come up once or twice, Ma’am.”

She stepped closer, letting him get a good look at her. “Would it shock you to know that my cousin—spoken of so highly by my uncle, my mother, nearly everyone within earshot—callously left me alone in the woods yesterday?” She wasn’t sure it was callous yet, but it felt that way to her. A gentleman—no matter his personal feelings—would not abandon a lady in the woods. Albert was a little boy, pretending to be a man. She didn’t have time for his petulance. She had an empire to rule.

Peel swallowed, his fingers fumbling with his hat. “I don’t know the Prince that well, Ma’am, perhaps…”

But Killian lost his temper again. “Don’t make excuses, Sir Robert. You didn’t see the Queen. We did.” He nodded at William. “She was near frozen, wet and exhausted. So, tell me, does that sound like the sort of man you want to be consort to your Queen?”

That got Peel’s attention. “Now see here. You’re merely a guest here, sir! I am a Member of Parliament!”

“A member of Parliament who conspired with a foreign monarch against his Queen,” Melbourne pointed out, speaking for the first time. “I have the evidence, right here in my pocket.”

“I demand to see such evidence!”

William produced the letter he’d received from Peel the night he left Windsor. “This letter states that you had vital information relevant to the man who attacked the Queen. It asks me to come to Dover House. When I did so, you were not there. Leopold was. He informed me that _you_ had devised such a meeting. Is that true, Sir Robert?”

Peel opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. A politician left speechless. It was quite extraordinary. Victoria let the silence to drag on for several long seconds, determined to make him squirm. When she laid out her terms, she was direct and forthright. “Your role in this can still be concealed, Sir Robert. I am sending instructions for my uncle to leave England. Effective immediately. If he should fail to comply, then you will introduce a bill in the House to end his allowance. As he is no longer a member of the royal family, he should no longer draw it. Wouldn’t you agree?” She knew some of the things her uncle used that allowance for; if he was going to be intransigent, then she wouldn’t hesitate to use it against him. He relied on that money.

“Me, Ma’am? Shouldn’t such a bill come from the leader of the government?”

“Fortunately for you, Sir Robert, England is in need of a new government.” It pained her to say it but say it she must. If she wanted William as her husband, then she had to give him up as her Prime Minister. They hadn’t discussed it yet, but she thought she could convince him to remain as her private secretary. She didn’t want to lose his counsel altogether.

Peel looked to Melbourne. “Lord Melbourne?”

“I resigned a couple of hours ago, Peel. Leopold got what he wanted, in a manner of speaking.”

“I don’t follow.”

Victoria reached behind her, taking William’s hand into hers. “I have asked Lord Melbourne to marry me,” she said in a clear voice. “And he has accepted.”

Peel’s face turned an angry shade of puce. “Your foolishness will destroy the country,” he growled, furious. “You can’t marry him! He’s not royal! The people won’t stand for it!”

“How do you know what the people will stand?” Emma asked, stepping forward, Killian’s hand firmly in hers. It was what was in a person’s heart that mattered, not where they were born. Her beloved husband was a pirate, a commoner, even a child slave. She hated all he’d suffered, but it made him into the man he was today. The man she loved. She hoped that even if there had been some crazy alternate reality where she’d been a princess that they still would have found each other. She couldn’t imagine her life without him. She knew Victoria felt the same way about William. “Why wouldn’t they want their Queen to be happy?”

“It’s not about happiness!” Peel cried. “She has a duty…”

“To provide heirs,” Victoria said, her voice steely. “I also have a duty to my people _now_ , Sir Robert. A duty to protect them from foreign attack. You would have my throne usurped by the King of the Belgians! Is that truly in England’s best interests? Do you honestly believe my uncle will abandon English affairs if I married Albert? He would be more intricately entwined than ever. We would be dragged into _his_ disputes, expected to come to Belgium’s aid at the least provocation. I will not sit by and have my country run from Belgium or Coburg. I am the Queen of England and I will protect my people, sir.”

Peel looked as if he’d been slapped. Like a woman had never dared to speak to him so. But this was no ordinary woman, Melbourne thought, pride swelling in his chest. This was the _Queen of bloody England_ , Victoria Regina; he almost felt bad for Peel. Almost. The man spluttered, still red in the face, but no words would come.

Victoria stepped closer to Peel, her gaze hard and determined, her back straight. “I know the stipulations of the Royal Marriages Act, Sir Robert. The only person who must approve of my marriage is myself. I am the monarch. I will inform the Privy Council of my choice forthwith. I would like your support, but I do not require it. I merely require you to be loyal to England. The question is: where _does_ your loyalty lie, Sir Robert? With England? Or my uncle. The choice is yours.”

It took every bit of courage she could muster, but she walked away. She strode from the room, her head held high. She could leave the details to Lord M. She couldn’t show weakness now. She needed to be strong, to fight for the future she wanted so badly. William was confident that Peel’s love of England would overcome whatever…prejudice he seemed to have against her. What was so wrong with being a woman? Why did her sex imply that she could not reign as well as a man? Would her father have been a good king? Victoria liked to think so, but he died when she was very young. In truth, she did not know. Certainly—if he’d lived—the Duke and Duchess would have tried for more children. A boy. A son to usurp her place.

No, she couldn’t think like that. She was a soldier’s daughter. She was exactly where she was meant to be. This was her kingdom, her empire, and she would fight for it. For that _and_ her happiness.

Emma watched Victoria leave. She shared a glance with Killian; he nodded. He and William could handle Peel. The man was still in some sort of shock, looking down at the floor in bewilderment. As soon as Emma was gone, Killian closed the door. “I never liked cowards,” he said quietly, seemingly offhand. But he was provoking Peel on purpose. They needed this settled.

“Excuse me?”

Killian shrugged. “Nothing.”

“I don’t like what you’re implying, sir.”

William moved away, content to allow the captain to say his piece. He hated confrontation, spending virtually all his political life avoiding it. He always worked for consensus, although he doubted there would ever be consensus on this particular subject. His marriage to the Queen would always be controversial; it was the nature of the thing. She was so young, so full of life. He was…not. She made him _feel_ young again, but he could not help but fear that in the end, he would leave her a young widow. Too young. He would have to talk to her about that, though he knew she would not like it. But it was the truth.

Killian kept an eye on William; the man must hate this sort of thing. From all he’d read, this was exactly the kind of thing Melbourne avoided. Things were slightly different in this reality, but that was fine with Killian. He hated bullies. That’s exactly what Leopold was: a bully. Peel was nothing more than a bully’s minion. “Just what do you think I’m implying?” he said to Peel. Killian rested his hand on the hilt of his sword; he had to admit, it felt good to be wearing one again. “The fact that you’re not jumping at the opportunity speaks volumes about your character.”

“I am being blackmailed!”

“No, sir. You are avoiding the Tower.” Killian looked at William. “Is that still done, mate? Do traitors go to the Tower?”

The corner of William’s mouth actually quirked up in a half grin; Peel’s face was priceless. “I’m sure special arrangements could be made.”

“Now see here! I am no traitor!”

“Did you even think it through?” Killian asked. “Or was whatever Leopold promised you too tempting to resist? I know a lot about temptation, Sir Robert. She is not an easy mistress.”

“I don’t have time for this twaddle.” Peel tried to leave, but Killian was too fast. He unsheathed his sword and pointed it squarely at Peel’s throat. The man jumped back, true fear in his eyes for the first time.

“The whole sad tale is going to come out on way or another,” Killian said quietly, but seriously. “The people love their Queen. When they discover how her own family has betrayed her, they’ll rally to her cause. I’ve seen it happen.” How many adventures had he been on with the Charmings? They were beloved, because they were kind and good, genuinely caring about the people who looked to them for guidance and leadership. Emma inherited that from them. It was one of the many reasons he loved her. Killian saw that special brand of magic in Victoria as well. Peel would do well to remember it.

Peel turned away from the captain; the man wasn’t even an English subject! What did he know? “Melbourne, you can’t seriously be considering this. The press will eat you alive. The republicans will call for the end of the monarchy!”

“And what would they do to you, Sir Robert?” William countered. “I have the truth on my side. The staff at Dover House saw Leopold there, heard him confess your involvement. I am sure they would be willing to testify to it. Aren’t you the one always going on about law and order?” When Peel didn’t reply, Melbourne continued. “Think of your family. Your wife and children. Would you bring them down with you in disgrace?”

Peel seemed to deflate and William knew that he had won. Still, Peel tried one last tack. “The Privy Council will never allow you to marry her. They’ll demand her abdication.”

William shook his head. “They’ll never accept the Prince now. Not after his behavior toward the Queen. There is no one else. So, unless they want Cumberland or his heirs on the throne…” It was a fait accompli at this point. He hated what Victoria would have to endure as his bride—the whispers, the derision, the mocking—but she had chosen her course. Their fates were entwined now, for better or worse. He hoped it was for the better. For her sake.

After a long pause, Peel nodded. “What do I have to do?”

* * *

 

Emma followed Victoria down a corridor, surprised when the younger woman stopped near a small alcove. The confident queen was quickly melting away; Emma could see it in the set of her shoulders, her head. “Are you okay?”

Victoria rested her hands on the sill, wondering if she’d done the right thing. “Should I have stayed?”

“Back there?” Emma came to stand beside her friend. “I think the boys have it under control.”

Victoria giggled. She’d never heard Lord M referred to as a boy. She now had first hand experience of just how much he was _not_ a boy.

“Something funny?”

“Lord M believes himself old. Which he’s not, but…” Victoria laughed again. “Now I’m picturing him as a boy.” She grew thoughtful. “I don’t believe I’ve seen a likeness of him from when he was younger.” That was an oversight she would need to correct. If she was going to be his wife, then she wanted to know everything.

“I don’t have one of Killian either,” Emma realized with a start. He was over three hundred years old. She liked to tease him about it, but she wondered what he’d been like as a small child. He’d only told her bits and pieces of his youngest years; she knew it was still a painful memory for him.

“Oh, that reminds me! You must allow me to paint you and Killian one day soon!” Victoria cried. “You are such a striking couple.”

“I don’t know, Victoria…” Emma didn’t do well with sitting still. Or being the center of attention.

“Please? I feel like I have not done enough to show you how much I value our friendship.”

She looked so earnest that Emma couldn’t say no. “Okay. But no crowns or anything like that. I just want to be Emma.”

Victoria smiled. “I understand completely.”

“You wear a crown much better than I ever could,” Emma said honestly. “The way you spoke to Peel…I’ve never been good at that.”

“I’m not sure that’s true,” Victoria replied. Then she looked away. “It’s just so…frustrating. No one accepts my decisions; everyone around me questions my judgment, simply because of my youth and sex. Except Lord M, of course. He’s always supported me.” He was her friend long before he was her lover. She cherished that friendship.

Emma frowned. Not much had changed in her time. It was a tough barrier to break. “Well, you were amazing. I think everything will work itself out.”

“I hope so.” Victoria stared out into the fall afternoon. Regardless of what happened with Peel, events were already starting to move. After summoning Peel, Victoria issued the necessary orders to banish her uncle from England. He would no doubt be getting those orders soon. Lord M thought it may be more prudent for her to remain at Windsor during the coming storm, but Victoria desperately wanted to get back to Buckingham Palace. It was home, not this draughty castle in the country. Besides, she would need to be near the apparatus of government as it changed from Whig to Tory. She despised the very idea of it, but it couldn’t be helped. As Lord M explained, asking the Tories to abandon Peel and select a new leader just wasn’t practical. It would send what was left of the government into chaos. She couldn’t allow that to happen. As monarch, it was her duty to keep the government running as smoothly as possible.

As long as it kept Lord M near, she could handle anything.

There were footsteps coming down the hall; Victoria turned, hoping it was William. Unfortunately, it was her mother. The Duchess of Kent looked nearly hysterical, her curls coming undone, her skirts askew. The moment she saw Victoria she let out a cry like a wounded animal. “What a vile ungrateful daughter you are, Drina!” she screeched. She got closer, shaking a piece of parchment in her fist. “How dare you banish your uncle!”

Victoria took a deep breath. She did not want to fight with her mother, but she was done allowing her mother to manipulate her. “I banished the King of the Belgians for conspiring to steal my throne, Mama,” she said as calmly as she could. “He threatened Lord M! And me!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Drina,” the Duchess snapped. “You’re letting that old fool fill your head with wild fantasies!”

“Do not speak of my fiancé that way, Mama,” Victoria said, her voice serious. She hadn’t meant to announce her betrothal to her mother like this, but it simply came out. There wouldn’t be a good way to tell her anyway. The Duchess would never accept Lord M as her husband, as much as it pained Victoria to admit it. Why couldn’t her mother just be happy for her?

Victoria, Duchess of Kent, blanched, shock painted across her features. “No.” Her voice was a deathly whisper; Emma could barely make it out. “It is impossible. It can not be. I will not allow it!”

Victoria, Queen of England, lifted her chin defiantly. “It is not up to you, Duchess. I have already asked Lord Melbourne to marry me. He has agreed. I will be informing the Privy Council shortly.”

The wail that erupted from the Duchess’ throat was one of the most horrid sounds Emma had ever heard. She dropped to her knees, holding her head and sobbing. She saw Victoria start to reach out, then pull back. Emma slipped her hand into hers. There was nothing Victoria could do to make this better. The Duchess would need to work through her grief on her own. “Come on.”

* * *

 

Melbourne paced up and down, deep in thought. Victoria had been very quiet at dinner. They’d eaten a small meal with Emma and Killian before the latter couple retired for the evening. It left Melbourne at a loss. He knew there had been some sort of confrontation with the Duchess of Kent—the woman had taken to her bed—but Victoria refused to speak of it. He was worried about her. Despite her protests, he knew she was still recovering from her ordeal in the woods.

He wanted to go to her. He wanted to hold her. He wanted her to rage at him, if that was what she needed. A withdrawn and sad Victoria did not sit well with him. Was she regretting their engagement? It did not sound like the woman he knew, but after everything she’d been through, he did not think he would blame her if she did. The engagement had been very spontaneous, as was her wont. Upon further reflection…

 _You know her better than that,_ he chided himself. _She loves you._

He needed to see her, just to make sure she was alright. He wasn’t sure how things were supposed to work now. Yes, they were betrothed, but it wasn’t public yet. Even if it were, him barging into her room would be most scandalous. _You’ve been far more scandalous than that, old man!_ Holding her in his arms, feeling her softness, reveling in her passion…it was too late for propriety now.

Choice made, he slipped quietly from his room. He was in his shirtsleeves, cravat missing, no vest. Yet he marched through the castle like a man on a mission. The guards allowed him to pass without a word; he was grateful to Emma for placing them there. He did not want a repeat of the scene with the Duchess. Nor did he want the German within breathing distance of his Queen.

When Melbourne reached her door, he hesitated. Would she welcome him? Was she already asleep? Shaking his head, he slowly turned the knob, which opened easily. Had she been expecting him? It was dark in the room, aside from the moonlight. “Victoria? Are you awake, love?”

Victoria’s heart thudded in her chest. It was Lord M! How did he know she’d been thinking of him? “Here, William.”

He locked the door behind him and approached the window seat. He was surprised to see her telescope out, pointed up toward the sky. He’d given it to her as a gift, for her birthday. He didn’t realize she still had it, let alone cherished it so. “It’s a bit cloudy for stargazing,” he observed.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she confessed. “It reminds me of you.”

He perched on the very edge of the sill, allowing his eyes to fall closed for one glorious moment as she leaned against his back. “Why didn’t you ask me to stay?” He wasn’t sure what his response would have been if she’d asked, but he hated this, Victoria looking so small and sad. She should be nothing but happy.

“I thought I needed time to think,” she whispered. “But I just missed you so much.”

William moved, scooping her up briefly so he could settle more firmly in the seat, placing her in his lap. She curled into him, so warm and soft. “Is this better?”

She graced him with a small smile. “Much.”

He stroked her back. “I missed you too,” he confided. “But I’m afraid we’ll become quite spoiled, spending time together like this.”

“Spoiled, Lord M? Are you not allowed to hold your fiancé?”

“Not when she’s in naught but her nightgown, Ma’am,” he teased. “People would talk.”

“Let them,” she replied loftily. She placed a kiss right at the corner of his mouth, so pleased she could do all (or almost all) of the things she’d long imagined doing with him. She could show him just how much she adored him.

Melbourne tightened his grip on her hips, fighting the urge to kiss her senseless. “Victoria…”

“What?” Her blue eyes shined in the moonlight, her skin pale and silver. She was so beautiful, it made his heart ache.

“I would very much like to kiss you now.”

“Hmm, yes please.” She didn’t want to think about the next few days. She didn’t want to think about her mother or Sir Robert Peel or the Tories. She just wanted to revel in the man before her, let him drown her in feeling until she could take no more. She let out a small moan as he drew her in, slanting his lips over hers. It was slow, exploratory, thorough. She felt like she was melting in his arms; each sinful stroke of his tongue heavenly. She wasn’t shy about this any longer; there was no room for that in this place. She twisted, her lips never leaving his, until she was once more straddling his legs. She moaned as he held her to him, his hands sliding up her back. “William…”

The way she said his name should be a crime. His already stiffening cock rose to full mast in an instant; a groan left his lips as she squirmed in his lap. “Victoria…bloody hell.”

She smiled, cupping his cheeks and drawing his lips back to hers. It was her turn to control the kiss, her tongue licking the seam of his lips. “Missed you,” she murmured, her hands dropping to his chest. She fisted his thin shirt in both hands, her hips rolling of their own volition. She was still very much a novice at seduction, but he loved her for it. She was discovering exactly how it felt to be loved wholly and completely; it was all he ever wanted for her.

He was the luckiest man in the whole of the world.

Reluctantly, he stilled her hips, coaxing her to focus on him. Her gorgeous blue eyes were hazy with need, her lips kiss bitten and swollen…he wanted nothing more than to give into the desire they were both drowning in. “Are you with me, Victoria?”

She tilted her head, confused. “This is the only place I want to be.”

He wanted to ask her about the confrontation with her mother, and whatever else was keeping her awake, but she looked so earnest, so open. “Do you want me to stay?”

She nodded fervently. “Please.” Now that he was here, she didn’t want to let him go. She didn’t want him to leave her sight. Slowly, she pulled on the tie holding her nightdress together, watching his eyes as more of her skin was exposed. A brief shrug caused the fabric to slide off her shoulders, pooling around her elbows. Heat flushed her skin as she watched his eyes darken in the moonlight, his desire for her burning so brightly. Her breathing hitched as he reached out at last, dragging the fabric down even farther, exposing her breasts to the cool air of the room. Her nipples tightened almost painfully, and William let out a strangled groan.

“May I?”

She nodded, gasping as he gently rolled one of her nipples between his fingers. She couldn’t stay still, her body moving completely on instinct, wetness flooding her core. She ground against him, her head falling back as he continued his erotic ministrations. Gradually, he increased the pressure, then began to give the same attention to its twin. She whined, unable to vocalize what she was feeling, how much she loved what he was doing to her. Her hands flew to his shoulders to keep her balance, gripping hard as she sought more pleasure. Her drawers were damp, nearly soaked through, she was so aroused. At some point her eyes fell closed; she jumped when wet lips wrapped around her hardened peak and sucked. Hard. Victoria cried out, her body engulfed in pleasure as she climaxed. Wave after wave rocked her, leaving her trembling in his arms.

“My god,” he whispered, holding her to him as she came down from her high. Victoria was stunning, but like this? She was glorious. He needed her so badly; he wanted to give her all the love and affection she’d been deprived of. She was made to be loved and loved well.

Victoria whined in complaint when William moved; he was carrying her to bed. “Stay?” Even now, she was a little afraid this was all a dream and he would disappear.

“Of course.” He stripped the nightgown from her lithe form, leaving her nude in the center of the large bed. He was still hard, aching for her; he chuckled a little as her eyes dropped to the front of his trousers. So needy, his darling girl. When they had their honeymoon, he intended to make up for all their lost time. Until then, they would have to make due.

Victoria instinctively wet her lips as William removed his clothes. She itched to do it herself, but she would never turn down the chance to admire his beautiful form. She’d always thought him the handsomest man she’d ever known, but she hadn’t done him justice. He was gorgeous. As he lay down beside her, she snuggled into him, her hand reaching out. He let her explore, her fingers tracing the planes of his chest, his abdomen, his hips.

She was slowly killing him. William fought for control as she innocently (or not so innocently, he didn’t miss the hungry look in her eyes) touched him, learning his body as he was learning hers. Her lips soon replaced her fingers, moving lower and lower. He caught some of her long chestnut hair in his hands, holding it back so he could watch her. She found a sensitive spot on his hip; he’d forgotten it was there. His needy moan took her by surprise. “William?”

“Don’t stop,” he whispered, guiding her hand to his cock. “Need you, darling.” What he really wanted was to claim her as his at last, show ever exactly how a man should love his wife. This was bittersweet, having her so close but unwilling to ruin their future.

Victoria smiled as she began to slowly stroke him; she was beginning to love all the sounds he made as she touched him. She wanted to give him the same pleasure he gave to her, but she was still a novice. In this, he would be her teacher, just as he had been in so many things before. Seeing him like this made her ache all over again, her body calling to his. She squeezed her thighs together, but it did nothing to relieve the ache. She kissed a path up his chest; he yanked her roughly, fusing their mouths together in a passionate kiss. Victoria felt a shiver of longing slide down her spine; she _liked_ this.

“William,” she gasped, dragging her right leg over him. They both moaned loudly as her swollen sex slid over his erection, his hands gripping her hips. “Oh, oh god.”

“You feel so good, Victoria,” he murmured, encouraging her to rock against him. It was maddening, but he was already addicted to her heat. “I want to be inside you so badly.” It struck him a moment later what he’d said; he searched her eyes for signs of disgust. She’d been so sheltered; her mother probably hadn’t prepared her for someone like…him.

Victoria sensed the change in him. “William?”

“Apologies, darling. I should not say such things. Especially when we can’t…”

She touched his face. “I love all of you,” she said quietly. “Even the parts you think I won’t. I want to be your wife.” She kissed him sweetly. “Your lover.” She kissed him again, rolling her hips. “And anything else you need me to be.” She was all too aware of the difference between herself and those that came before her.

“I need you, Victoria. Just like this. Exactly like this.” He didn’t need her to anyone but herself. “You already are everything to me.” He rolled them over; he fit perfectly between her legs. She whined impatiently as he hovered above her. “Would you like to hear all the things I want to do to you?”

The moonlight made his profile even more striking; it turned his skin silver and his eyes into emeralds. She dragged his mouth to hers, melting into his needy kiss. Once more, he ground against her, his cock slick with her arousal. She locked her ankles behind him, holding him to her. He kept his promise, making her watch them as he whispered some of the dirty things he’d fantasized doing to her. It was more than she had ever imagined; how had he kept his passion for her contained? She was threatening to spontaneously combust, her body on fire. On some level, she should have been scandalized, but she simply wanted _more_. She wanted everything he described, everything he was still keeping from her.

Another orgasm was just out of her reach. “William,” she panted desperately. “Please!”

“Tell me what you need, Victoria.” He was close himself; only his practiced control allowing him to see to her pleasure first.

“I need…I need to…” She didn’t know how to say the words.

He slowed his hips, making her whine in complaint. “I want you to tell me, Victoria. What do you need?”

“More,” she gasped, canting her hips. His weight was pressing her into the mattress so deliciously; she was nearly bucking against him. “William, more. I want to feel…”

That was enough for him. He dropped a kiss to her lips, easing her legs back just a bit farther. Her breathing hitched once more as she watched them in fascination, the ridge of his cock stroking her wet needy sex. God, he couldn’t wait to be buried inside that tight sheath! She was so small; he knew that when the time came he would have to be careful not to hurt her. Fortunately, he had experience in that area. “Come for me, my darling,” he whispered in her ear. “Let go.”

Her climax stole her breath, pleasure blossoming out from her core, making her toes curl. She arched against him, wave after wave drowning her. In the very best way. William followed quickly, hot ropes of his seed splashing on her skin, painting her chest and belly. The look of bliss on his face was one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen.

He rolled off her quickly, not wanting to crush her. It took him another moment to realize the mess he’d made. “Sorry, love.”

“Whatever could you be sorry for?”

“I’ve made a mess of you.” It was true on more ways than one.

“You really must stop worrying about my virtue, Lord M,” she replied, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “I’m stronger than I look.”

“I know.” He kissed her lips tenderly, then forced himself from the bed. He found the basin she’d used before, wetting a cloth to clean the evidence of their tryst from her skin. She hummed as he did so, almost purring. When he rejoined her under the covers, she went willingly into his arms. “Sleepy?”

“Not yet.”

He held her close, her breath tickling his skin. “Sure? You’ve had a long day.”

“I think I will sleep better now that you are here,” she replied truthfully.

“You slept just fine before this, Ma’am.” Before the fundamental change in their relationship.

“How do you know?” she teased. “Were you secretly stalking my bed at night, Lord M?”

“No, but I wanted to,” he confessed. “I wanted to be here with you.”

“Now you are.”

“I wasn’t the only one who imagined sharing your bed.”

“Perhaps. But you were the only one I imagined sharing it with.”

He politely scoffed. “All those young princelings you could have had at your beck and call?”

“Boys,” she reminded him. “The Queen of England does not have time for _boys._ ” She drew his lips to hers, kissing him deeply. She was becoming quite good at it. “I only want you.”

“Even now?” He knew that Victoria didn’t have a good relationship with her mother, but the strain between them must bother her.

“Mama is…Mama. Nothing I do will ever please her. Except marrying Albert.” Which she would not do. William was her soulmate; how could she love anyone else? “Of course, I would like her support, but if that never happens…as long as I have you, I am well content.”

“Victoria…”

She shook her head. “I can not force her to accept my choice. But it is _my_ choice. I want to marry you. I want to make you happy.”

“And I you, darling girl.”

“You already have, William.” There was more she wanted to say but she could feel herself fading. William held her securely in his arms, his love making her feel utterly safe. They would get through this. Together.

* * *

 

Emma stared at the book for what felt like the millionth time. Aside from the words Henry had written a few days ago, there was nothing. She tried every spell she knew, but nothing worked. Killian even brought a few dusty books back from Windsor, but they weren’t any help. So far. A couple of them were in foreign languages; he was working on translating them for her.

In the meantime, they kept on.

The day after the confrontation with Peel, the Queen’s entourage returned to Buckingham Palace. Albert was gone. He was still in the country, ostensibly visiting Kensington Palace. The events at Windsor were not yet widely known; Melbourne’s resignation could not be kept a secret. Victoria had officially asked Peel to form a government in her name; Emma knew how much that cost her friend. Still, it was the best way to get what she wanted.

With the Queen preoccupied with matters of state, Emma and Killian could focus on their own problems. They hadn’t been away from home this long in quite some time, not since their belated honeymoon. That trip had been planned; this time it was an accident. She was growing increasingly worried about her family back home; she didn’t like being away from Henry. _Might want to get used to it, Emma,_ she thought. _He’ll be going off to college soon. Or something._

Regina definitely wanted him to go to college. Emma did too, but she wanted it to be his choice. She’d never gotten to do anything like that. She spent those years trying to survive, not exactly ideal. Henry could be anything he wanted. She would miss him so much when he finally left home.

“What’s the matter, love?” Killian laid another stack of books aside, sliding in beside her on the loveseat. “You look pensive.”

“Nothing.”

He cocked a brow at her; he knew her too well. “Out with it, Swan.”

She sighed. “I miss Henry, is all.”

He wrapped an arm across her shoulders. “Aye, I do too. Any luck with the book?”

“No.” She sounded slightly petulant, but she couldn’t help it. It was frustrating. She was supposed to have all this power, but it didn’t seem to be helping.

He stoked her shoulder. “Is there another way to communicate? Or at least see them?”

She looked skeptical. “Not that I can think of.”

“What about the mirror? You did it back in Storybrooke, using the mirror to check on Ariel and Eric.” It was a less than pleasant memory for him, a keen reminder of how he’d behaved toward Ariel during the year he’d been separated from Emma. He’d wronged Ariel grievously, but she’d ultimately forgiven him.

Emma perked up. She’d completely forgotten that! She’d been so busy feeling sorry for herself that it slipped her mind. “I could try.”

There was a full length mirror in the corner. “You’ll do it,” he said confidently. They both rose, moving over to the mirror; Killian tried not to focus on the way his shirt hung off her slim frame. Even when she wasn’t trying, she was stunning. He stood behind her, slipping his arms around her waist. “Is this okay?”

Emma nodded. “Yeah, you’re good.” She didn’t mind his closeness; it soothed her. He always made her feel good about herself. She held her hands out in front of the mirror, willing it to show her…something. She was hoping it would be Henry, since he was the one she was most worried about. It shimmered briefly, then an image came into focus. Henry’s mop of dark brown hair came into view; he was asleep over a book. Emma recognized it as one of the story books. Was it the same one that sent them here?

“Safe and sound,” Killian murmured.

Emma nodded, drinking him in. No matter how big he got, Henry would always be that scrawny ten year old who knocked on her door and changed her life. Another person came into view; it was Regina. Looking closer, Emma realized that Henry was in Regina’s dining room, books scattered over the table. Regina shook his shoulder gently; Henry woke up, exhaustion written all over his face. Regina was saying something; there was no sound to the image, but Emma understood exactly what she was saying. It was the same thing she would say, if the situation was reversed. “You need to sleep; you can’t do anything if you’re exhausted. This is not your fault.” Because Henry would blame himself for this. It wasn’t his fault; this whole thing was an accident. They would work it out. They always did. Emma was thankful Regina was there when she couldn’t be.

“Poor lad’s exhausted.”

“It’s not his fault.”

“No, it’s not. I’m sure Regina’s telling him exactly that. But he gets his stubbornness from his mother.”

Emma smiled to herself. “Hey, you married into this family, buddy.”

“And I’d do it again, every day if you wished it so.” He kissed her cheek. “You’re my home, you and the lad.”

She turned in his arms, hugging him close as they continued to watch Henry and Regina. She wished there was a way they could talk to them. But this would have to be enough. Regina did manage to coax Henry to bed, then she sat at the table. She flipped through the books, a frown creasing her brow. Emma spotted a few things—illustrations mostly—that looked familiar. Some more of Emma and Killian’s adventures? Regina stopped on a clear illustration of Killian and William by a fire, deep in thought.

“Killian, is that what I think it is?”

He nodded. “Aye, that’s Brocket Hall. Good likeness, too.”

“What do you think it means?”

“I think it means we’re on the right track.”

“It just feels like we’re not getting anywhere.”

“We’re in a story, love. It stands to reason we need to see it through to get home.”

“So, helping Victoria and William get their happily ever after?”

“Something like that.”

“It makes sense when you say it like that.” She’d been thinking something similar, but the more time passed, the more she doubted her instincts. Thank goodness Killian was there.

“I try, love.” She swatted his chest, then waved the image away. Henry was safe, that was what was important. She missed him fiercely but seeing him made her feel a bit better. She and Killian returned to the loveseat; Emma picked up the companion book to the one Henry had.

“Do you think we could use this to get a message to them?”

“We could try.” He went over to the desk, fetching some pen and ink. He watched as Emma scribbled a message, then setting it aside to dry. “Feel better?”

She nodded, tucking her bare legs under her, curling into her husband’s side. Seeing Henry reminded her of how little time they had left with him. He was almost an adult. “We’re not going to get much more time with him,” she said sadly.

“Not _so_ soon,” Killian pointed out. “He’s not yet seventeen.”

“He will be soon. Then it’ll be senior year, then he’ll be off…somewhere. It’ll go faster than you think.”

“I’m simply glad he gets to enjoy being a child a little while longer. Not everyone is so lucky.” When he was Henry’s age, he’d still been a slave, already drinking, starting to tumble out of control. He’d been forced to grow up far too soon. He was so thankful that Henry had a family that loved him.

Emma laid her head on his shoulder; Killian didn’t often talk about his youth. She knew it was still a painful topic, so she never pressed him for details. She knew enough. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For being his dad.”

Killian inhaled sharply, a lump forming in his throat. She never had to thank him for that. He loved Henry like he was his own, just like he had the boy’s father. It was the least he could do. “It’s nothing.”

“No. It’s not. Seeing you with him…it’s all I ever wanted for him. To have parents who love him. You’re a wonderful father, Killian. And you’ll continue to be when we…” She drew his hand to her belly, reminding him that she wanted them to have more children. She was going to talk to Henry about it as soon as they returned home. She hoped he would be happy about it.

Killian pulled Emma more firmly into his lap, happiness threatening to burst out of him. “I love you so much, Swan,” he murmured, kissing the crown of her head. “More than I can say.”

“Ditto.” She liked this, just relaxing with him. They didn’t get to do this as much as she would have liked. Back in Storybrooke, they had jobs and Henry and her parents. Sharing this adventure with him was making her fall in love with him all over again.

“Good thing, that,” he teased. “You’re stuck with me now, Swan.” He brought her left hand to his lips, kissing her ring finger. At the height of his pirating days, he never imagined anything like this. A domestic life with a wife and son? Not for the fearsome Captain Hook! He thought then he would live and die by the sword. Now the highlight of his days was a smile from the woman he loved.

“It’s such a burden, let me tell you,” she teased right back.

Killian huffed in mock annoyance. ‘Well, if that’s the way you feel about it…” He dropped her unceremoniously back onto the loveseat and stood, striding back toward their bedroom. Emma cried out in surprise, quickly getting to her feet. She stalked after him, one of his shirts swishing midway down her thighs. Killian seemed to ignore her, methodically stripping out of his clothes.

“What the hell?”

Her husband flashed her a taunting sexy grin. “I thought you might appreciate some space, since I am _such_ a burden to you.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I didn’t know you were so sensitive, pirate.”

He closed the space between them, touching her chin with his hook. “Is that a challenge, darling?”

Oh, damn him for knowing her so well. She needed a distraction from her morose thoughts and he was providing it. She wanted to be annoyed but it had been several days since they last had sex. Long days with dusty old books followed by private dinners with Victoria and Melbourne that lasted late into the night left her dead on her feet. This had been their first day completely to themselves since they returned to the palace. She smirked back at him. “Maybe. Think you can take it?”

“Do your worst, darling.”

Emma curled her fingers around his necklace, tugging his lips down to hers. She kissed him deeply, not giving either of them a chance to breathe. Tongues battled for dominance, her lover’s hand and hook sliding over her waist to yank her flush. His hand gripped her ass, squeezing roughly. “Fuck,” she murmured.

“There’s my girl,” he growled, fisting the linen. “Gods, I missed you.”

She nipped at his lips one last time, then gave him a sharp shove. He bounced as his back hit the bed, his brow waggling. She rolled her eyes, easing his legs apart at the knees, her eyes roving over him. His Victorian clothes left very little to the imagination; she ran her fingers over his crotch, enjoying his hiss of pleasure. She maintained the pressure until he was fully erect, the bulge very clear. He stared at her with heated eyes, his hand behind his head.

“Do you want to play?” she asked quietly. She always asked, even though he had yet to refuse her. With his past, she never wanted to assume. She wanted him to be fully on board with anything they did.

“Hmm, very much.” He thrust his hips up, eager for more of her touch.

She grinned. “Good.” She crossed her arms and peeled the borrowed shirt over her head, leaving her completely nude. She straddled his thighs, perched on the edge of the bed. Bending down, she pressed her lips to his bare chest, kissing and nipping at his skin. She paid special attention to his nipples, dragging her teeth over them until they were hard. Killian moaned, reveling in the buzz that rushed under his skin. Blood rushed straight to his cock, leaving him aching and straining against the confining trousers. Emma ground over his clothed erection, shivering at the way the fabric rubbed her skin. She left multiple love bites on his skin before she was satisfied. Killian moaned in frustration when she climbed off him but gasped as she stripped his boots off, then went to work on his ruined pants. He hissed as she—purposely—stroked him before pulling them all the way off.

God, she loved when he went commando. “Middle of the bed, pirate.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He moved to the center of the bed, anticipation making his skin tingle. Emma needed to let off some steam; he was her very willing subject.

“Let’s make you comfortable.” She tucked an extra pillow under his head, then waved her hand, using her magic to secure his arms to the bed. “Okay?”

He tested the bonds; he was utterly at her mercy. He _loved_ it. “Aye, darling.”

She smiled and bent over him, kissing him deeply. She ran her fingers down his chest, infusing her touch with just a hint of her magic. They’d discovered how much Killian liked bringing her magic into their bed some time ago; it was exciting for them both. He shivered under her touch, the buzz from her magic going straight to his cock. “Fuck.”

“Like that?”

“You know I do.”

“Hmm, let’s see how much you can take, pirate.” She straddled him again, grinding her sex over his straining erection. They both moaned deeply, enjoying the intimate contact. Having him at her mercy like this made her so wet; it was such exquisite torture, grinding over him. She palmed her breasts, rolling and pinching each stiffened nipple, forcing him to watch her pleasure herself. Killian couldn’t tear his eyes away, mesmerized by her beauty. She was stunning, her skin flushed, her eyes closed in pleasure, her lips parted. Breathy moans tumbled from her lips; he could feel her orgasm approaching. Emma bit her lip as she fell, her body trembling. Killian strained against his bonds, desperate to hang on. He didn’t want to come until she let him inside her tight sheath.

“Fucking hell, love,” he grunted.

She stilled her hips, her body still tingling with pleasure. “Don’t come yet. Not through with you.”

“As you wish.” He would do anything she asked, just so long as she didn’t stop touching him.

She bent down and kissed his sternum, then slowly moved down and down and down. She pressed a light kiss to the tip of his cock, catching a bit of her own taste on his skin. “Legs back.” He obeyed quickly, his heart racing. It had been far too long since they did _this._ He wished they had their toys, but he would take what he could get.

Emma was thankful the bed was so large; she could settle behind him and have plenty of room. She gathered some of her own slickness on her fingers, then started to massage the tight ring of muscle. Killian moaned loudly; Emma snapped her fingers, casting a silencing spell around their room. “That’s it, pirate. I wanna hear you.”

He nodded, hissing as she licked a stripe over his cock. The dual stimulation of her fingers and her mouth was incredible; he did as she asked, not staying quiet, letting her hear how much he loved this. “Emma, fuck, _more,”_ he panted, trying to rock into her touch. “Please, darling.”

“Love listening to you beg,” she whispered. She released him long enough to conjure some lube, a cock ring and a strap on dildo. Killian’s eyes widened, stunned that she could _do_ that.

“Emma?”

“Is this okay?” She was a little surprised it worked herself, but pleased. She wanted to give him what he needed, what they both needed.

“Fuck yes,” he growled. _“Please.”_

She beamed, coating her fingers with lube. She began to work him in earnest, prepping him for the strap on. She pressed a slick finger inside while her mouth worked his cock. He relaxed under her, groaning and hissing in pleasure. His arms tensed against his bonds, the muscles bulging and flexing. It was incredibly arousing; she loved that he trusted her to pleasure him like this. Her core clenched; she desperately wanted him inside her, riding her into oblivion. Soon.

“Fuck, this is hot,” she breathed, slipping another finger inside him. She twisted her wrist, her fingers seeking her prize. Killian gasped when she found the perfect spot, stroking it, sending shudders of pleasure through his body. “Can’t wait to fuck you.”

He moaned again, almost beyond speech. “Don’t let me come,” he panted, jerking under her.

“No?” She licked the tip of his cock, tasting his salty precum. “You don’t want relief?”

He shook his head violently. “Wanna be inside you.”

“Hmm, good boy. I do too.” She took him into her mouth, sucking repeatedly, testing his control. He cried out, the sensation _just_ the right side of painful. She took him right to the edge, then backed off, leaving him gasping. He was trembling, dangerously close to exploding, but he grit his teeth, determined not to give in.

“I’m so fucking wet,” she purred in his ear. “Wanna taste?”

She was trying to kill him. But he needed the respite, or this would be over far too quickly. “Please.”

Emma gracefully straddled his face, lowering her sex to his mouth. With his arms bound, he could only pleasure her with his lips and tongue, but that was all he needed. She tasted divine, lush and sweet, he took every drop of arousal she fed him. Emma braced her hands on his chest, gently rocking her hips, riding his face. She could see them in the vanity mirror, her skin flushed pink, his erection red and swollen.

“Close,” she breathed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “So fucking close.”

Killian ate her out like a man possessed, tonguing her hole until she climaxed, flooding his mouth. He took all of it, reveling in her moans of pleasure. “Yes, yes, yes,” she whimpered, grinding over him, his beard scratching her delicate skin deliciously. “Fuck yes.”

Killian was wound tightly, like a bow string; he needed her so badly. “Please, darling. Fuck me. Please!”

Emma scrambled off him as quickly as she could, snatching up her toy. She cinched it around her waist and thighs; she loved the harness that left her sex wide open. Then she carefully rolled the cock ring around him, biting her lip as she watched him swell just a _little_ bit larger. Killian was already large, but she wanted him wild for her. His gaze burned her as he watched her lube up the dildo and lean close. She pressed against his opening, slowly, watching his face as the dildo sank deeper and deeper. His eyes fell closed, tiny whimpers tumbled from his lips. It had been a little while since they’d done this, so once she was fully seated, she paused to let him adjust.

“Emma,” he moaned, lust filled eyes seeking hers. “Fuck, Emma. So good.” He felt full, vulnerable, but he trusted her. She knew exactly what he liked; he was so grateful that he could share this with her. He moaned into her kiss, her lips hot on his. His need was reflected in her eyes; she was beautiful. “Don’t forget,” he whispered between kisses. “Wanna come in your sweet cunt.”

“Fuck,” she cursed. She thrust forward, reminding him who was fucking who at the moment. “Better make it worth my while, pirate.” She braced herself above him, rocking her hips steadily, the dildo sliding in and out of him, setting his body alight. He could feel a powerful orgasm tingling at the base of his spine, but he fought, content to revel in the sensation of his Swan using his body this way. Her palms tingled with magic, the added stimulation nearly too much. He needed to come, needed relief from the exquisite torment, but he needed her more. Speech was beyond him, whimpers and moans and gasps the only sounds coming from his lips. She fucked him just the way he liked, slow and deep, the dildo stretching him perfectly.

“I love you,” she whispered in his ear, his body trembling beneath hers. He was right on the edge, but she couldn’t stop fucking him. “So fucking much, babe. So gorgeous like this.”

He had to find his voice. If she didn’t stop, he wouldn’t get his prize. “Need you,” he whined, hips still seeking hers, still rocking in time with hers. “Please, Emma.”

She was melting just thinking about the ride she was about to go on. Finally, she pulled out of him and released his arms with a wave of her hand. Killian pounced almost instantly, dragging her down for a desperate, hungry kiss. Her fingers fumbled for the catch on the harness, but he stopped her. “Leave it on.”

Emma obeyed, heart galloping a mile a minute as he moved her to where he wanted her. On her knees, facing the mirror, her pirate behind her. He spread her knees wider, his cock nestled against her ass. “Tie yourself to the posts,” he growled, his hand sliding down her trembling belly. Twin swirls of white smoke left her lashed to the bedposts by the wrist; a fresh wave of arousal dripped onto the bed. He leaned her forward slightly until the tip of his cock hovered over her slick hole. “Is this what you want, love?”

It was her turn to whimper with need. “Yes! Please!”

“Say it. Tell me what you want.”

“I need your cock inside me,” she replied, trying to wiggle onto him. Unsuccessfully. “God, please!”

“No one can hear you, sweetheart. Scream all you like.” With no warning, he sank into her with one deep stroke; she was so painfully aroused that she climaxed almost immediately, screams tumbling from her lips. The cock ring was the only thing keeping him in check; she was hot, wet, _so_ tight like this. He didn’t let her come down from her high, rocking into her hard and deep, watching her take every thick inch of his cock. It was like she was made for him, their tastes perfectly suited. He pressed kisses along her shoulder, drinking her broken whimpers.

Emma was riding high, almost like she was floating in pleasure. She could feel him moving inside her, bottoming out with every drive of his hips. The sight of them in the mirror made her burn hotter, especially his hook pressed against her belly to hold her in place. Her lover was capable of such tenderness, but she craved the danger, the pirate. She hoped she always would.

“Like what you see?” he murmured, his breath hot on her ear. “My little voyeur.”

“Oh god.” She rolled her hips, tugging against her restraints. A fourth climax was just out of reach; she needed him to get her there. “More, I need more.”

“Undo the ropes,” he growled. They were gone in the blink of an eye and he pulled her flush against his chest. Emma raised herself up, feet braced on the bed, her head twisting to kiss him sloppily. She bounced on his lap, chasing orgasm.

“Oh no, you don’t, Swan,” he growled, lifting her off him. He spun her around, yanking her back into his lap. Emma moaned as he sank inside her once more, his hand and hook holding her to him as he fucked her hard and fast. She climaxed in seconds, screaming his name, clutching at his neck as he followed, three hard jerks of his hips filling her with his cum. He caught her lips in a breathless kiss, holding her close.

They remained that way for some time, clutching at each other, panting, hearts pounding. Killian knew it couldn’t be comfortable for her, so he laid her down on the bed, then went to fetch her a wet cloth. His legs felt like jelly, but he made it to the basin and back. Emma mumbled appreciatively, thoroughly worn out. He smiled as he laid the cloth aside and carefully removed their toys before climbing into bed with her. “Come here, Swan.”

Emma did as he asked, snuggling into his side, her head on his chest. “Hmm, this is nice.”

“How do you feel?”

“If you have to ask…”

He chuckled. “Just making sure.”

She kissed his pec. “I feel fantastic. You?”

“Pretty much the same.” He let her go long enough to chuck his brace, wincing a little at the irritated skin.

“That hurt?”

“Tis nothing.”

Emma frowned, pushing herself up. “Let me?” He nodded his assent. She whisked away their toys with magic and summoned some of the lotion he liked. She rubbed it into his irritated skin as gently as she could, brushing a kiss there when she was finished. “There.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” He was perfectly capable of doing it himself, but he secretly liked that she wanted to take care of him.

“Anytime.” She pressed a lingering kiss to his lips, then returned to her place at his side. “Thanks for knowing what I needed.”

“Hardly an inconvenience,” he reminded her. “I thoroughly enjoyed myself.”

“Guys always enjoy themselves.”

“Not always.” He’d had his share of lackluster encounters.

She almost asked what he meant, but let it go. She had a feeling anyway. She’d been a one night stand girl for most of her adult life. It was nothing compared to how she felt being with someone she loved. “I guess I just got lucky then.”

“As did I, my love.” They shared a sweet kiss, Emma winding herself even more firmly around him. “As eager as I am to get home, I will miss having you all to myself.”

“I was just thinking that earlier. Even though I feel a little bit guilty about it.”

“Guilty? Why?”

“Henry. I miss him, but…it’s just a hard balance, you know? And if we have kids, it’s only going to get harder.”

“Are you saying you don’t want more children?”

“No, no, absolutely not.” She forced him to look at her. “I want kids with you, Killian. I really do. You’re going to be the best dad, I just know it.” She smiled at him, watching him flush. It was cute. “I just don’t want to lose what we have; does that make sense? Until you, I’ve never had anything that was just mine.”

He smiled in relief. “That makes perfect sense, Swan. We’ll just have to do our best. Your parents seem to have worked it out.” They had a little one and still seemed as sickeningly in love as ever. He and Emma had True Love too; he knew they would be just fine.

Emma shuddered. “Ugh, don’t remind me. I still can’t look at tacos the same way.”

Killian laughed. “Come now, Swan. It’ll all work out. We’ll get home, talk to Henry, then start working on expanding our family.”

Emma propped her head in her hand, so she could look down at him. “I love you a lot, do you know that?”

“Do you know how much _I_ love _you_ , princess?”

She grinned. “Why don’t you show me, sailor?”

Killian growled, pouncing on her. She giggled into his kiss, content to let go of her worries for one night. With Killian by her side, anything was possible.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait between updates. I have several WIPs going on; I work on what the muse demands. Plus I recently had surgery on my eye, so I wasn't able to do anything for about a week. There are only about 2 more chapters left in this story; thank you for your patience!

“How do I look?” Victoria smoothed down her skirts, hoping her nerves didn’t show. She was due to speak to the Privy Council in a couple of hours; she was going to announce her engagement to Lord M. There was another conversation on her agenda this day, one she was not looking forward to. She’d put it off, not wanting to leave the blissful state that she’d discovered with William. It had been more than a week since their return from Windsor; he had not left her side. They observed the barest of proprieties in company, with Emma and Killian acting as chaperones. The quartet often went riding together, enjoying the final days of fall. It was becoming rather crisp out, but Victoria enjoyed the outdoors. Far too soon, she would be cooped up inside for the winter.

 _But William will be here this time,_ she mused. That thought warmed her, a slight blush rising on her cheeks. Very few knew that her fiancé shared her bed at night, sneaking in after everyone had retired for the night. Having gotten a taste of him at Windsor, she found that she could not do without him. She loved and hated it at the same time. She wanted him so badly, but he was serious about protecting their future. He wouldn’t take her maidenhead until they were properly wed.

It made her want to scream.

Victoria was through waiting. She wanted to be married as quickly as possible. That meant getting her affairs in order, starting with Albert.

“Beautiful, Ma’am,” Skerrett said quietly, admiring her reflection in the full length mirror.

Victoria touched the pearls at her throat; they were a gift from Lord M. They’d belonged to his mother; she was touched by his thoughtfulness. Her relationship with her own mother was almost non-existent these days; the Duchess refused to leave her bed. She could only plead illness for so long before the situation became embarrassing. Victoria suspected that was her mother’s plan. Humiliate Victoria to force her to recall Uncle Leopold. Once again, the Duchess underestimated her daughter’s resolve.

A knock drew her from her depressing thoughts. “Enter.” Victoria let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding; it was Lord M.

Skerrett curtsied quickly, smothering her smile. It was good to see her mistress happy. She gathered up her things and let herself out, giving the couple some privacy.

Melbourne knelt in front her, brushing his lips across her knuckles. He still liked doing that, despite the change in their relationship. It reminded him of how far they’d come. “Ma’am.”

“Lord M.” Her eyes followed him as he stood; he looked so handsome in gray and black.

Melbourne closed the small space between them, tipping her face up so he could kiss her. Victoria hummed, her fingers curling into his satin vest. “Hello.”

She giggled. “Miss me, my lord?”

“Always.” He kissed her again, rougher this time, his arms sliding loosely around her waist. He didn’t want to ruin her gown. He marveled at himself; how easy it was to be with her! She brought out a side of him he’d believed long dead. With her he could be playful, spontaneous, completely at ease. She wasn’t repulsed by the intensity of his feelings for her.

Victoria broke the kiss, slightly breathless. “I didn’t expect to see you, Lord M.”

“Is this a good surprise then?”

She nodded. “Very good.” She curled her fingers into the V of his vest, tugging his lips back to hers. She sighed as he cupped the back of her head, his tongue stroking hers sinfully. Already, she could feel heat curling in her belly; would there ever come a time where she did not want him?

William kissed her for as long as he dared; it was sweet torture, enjoying her like this. He knew she wanted more—so did he. Very much. But he’d been deprived of the chance to court her properly; he wanted to treasure this time. Things would change once they were wed.

Victoria missed him when he pulled away. “William?”

“Albert is waiting.”

She pouted. “Let him wait. I am the Queen. And his cousin.”

“But you are not cruel,” he reminded her. He knew she was still angry about what happened at Windsor, though she tried not to show it. She needed to put this behind her before they could truly move forward. Albert had behaved abominably, but he was still her family. She would regret it, if she didn’t try to part amicably. The wound would fester. He didn’t want their married life starting on such a note.

She sighed in defeat. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. She needed to see Albert. “He’ll never accept my choice.”

“He has no choice; as you pointed out, you are the Queen.”

“And the Privy Council?” she demanded. “They also have no choice?” Despite her bravado with Sir Robert Peel, there was a niggling doubt in her mind. It almost seemed too good to be true, that she would actually get to marry her beloved Lord M.

Melbourne could not lie to her. “They will demand…conditions,” he said carefully. With Albert no longer an option, there would still be resistance to _him_ as the alternative. Such a union had never happened in the history of the monarchy. Kings had married common gentlewomen before; but no reigning Queen had ever married a subject, let alone one that had been her Prime Minister. “They will want to feel like they have some control.”

“But I am the _Queen_ ,” Victoria replied hotly. “It is not their affair!”

“That’s not the tack I would take in your argument, Ma’am.” He took her hand between both of his. “We knew this would not be easy. These are proud accomplished men, Victoria. Some—like Sir Robert—find the idea of being dictated to by a woman…distasteful. Most of them have a deep loyalty to the monarchy; you must you that to your advantage.”

“What conditions do you think they will demand?”

“My retirement from public life, for one.”

“But you have already resigned! What else could they want?”

“Victoria, they already believe that I have an undue influence over you…”

“I’ve already agreed to add some Tory ladies to my household,” she replied testily. “I can’t lose you too.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Ma’am,” he assured her. “But…”

“Are you saying you will not continue as my private secretary? Isn’t that part of the reason they want me to have a husband? To advise me? You already advise me, Lord M. Quite well.”

William blinked. “You still want me as your private secretary?”

“Why wouldn’t I? We work together well. Don’t you think?”

“I…well, yes, Ma’am. We do.”

“I want you by my side, William,” she said earnestly. “In all things. I’ll agree to anything they want, just not that.” She looked up at him, those blue eyes he loved shining bright. “Stay with me.”

As if he could deny her. “Of course I will, Victoria.” He glanced away, terribly conscious that it was a promise he couldn’t keep. Not the way that truly mattered.

She sensed his unease. “What is it, William?”

“Nothing, I was just…thinking.”

She took both of his hands in hers. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. I’m not afraid.” Knowing that she had his love made her strong. It was all she ever wanted; she would fight for him. Always.

He smiled softly. “My brave girl,” he praised, cupping her cheek.

She leaned into his touch, sliding her hand over his. “You make me feel brave.”

“You’ve always been brave, my love. You don’t need me for that.” She’d survived the hell that was Kensington quite well before she met him. She was stronger than she gave herself credit for. Stronger than anyone else gave her credit for. But he saw it, the moment they met. She had a spine of steel, unbreakable.

He was afraid losing him would break her.

“Then why do you look so sad?”

He guided her to their favorite couch, tucking her into his side. “I’m not sad, my love. You make me unbelievably happy. Happier than I thought I could be.”

“Something is troubling you, Lord M. I can see it in your eyes.”

“There is one argument the Privy Council will make that you can not refute.”

“And that is?”

“I am…older than you, Victoria. More than you want to admit.”

“You are _not_ old!”

“I was a man grown when you were born,” he reminded her.

“Older men marry young women all the time. I _love_ you!”

He pressed a kiss to her throat. “I don’t doubt that, darling girl. You are too stubborn for your own good,” he replied fondly. “But I worry about what will happen after I’m gone.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he pressed a finger to her lips. He knew she would not like this, but it needed to be said. She needed to understand exactly the kind of life she was choosing. “Here me out, Victoria. Please. Do you think I want to leave you? Do you think I want you to play nurse to an old man in the flower of your youth? I would give anything to live a long happy life with you.” He kissed her lips gently. “But it is likely that I will not. I will do everything I can to stay with you, as long as I can. But you must promise me something.”

Her lip trembled; she couldn’t bear to think of a time without him. But he needed her to be strong. She could do that. For him. “Anything, William.”

“Do not shut yourself away. Mourn me honestly but live your life. Raise our children, if we are so blessed. I could not bear the idea of you in black forever.” She was young and vibrant; she deserved happiness.

Victoria bit her lip; tears welled in her eyes. “Why must you speak of such things, William?”

“Because I must. I love you too much to lie or mislead you. Do you remember when I first turned you away? At Brocket Hall?” She nodded. “It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I loved you even then.” He offered her a small smile. “But I thought I would bring you nothing but misery. I couldn’t do that to you.”

She sucked in a breath. “What changed?”

His thumb stroked the back of her hand. “Honestly? I don’t know. I’ve lost all reason when it comes to you. Every time I try to tear myself away, I find I can’t. You’ve got my heart in your hands, Victoria, to do with as you will.”

Victoria turned and pressed her lips to his. Tears splashed down her cheeks, but she kept kissing him. Her skirts twisted uncomfortably, but it didn’t matter. Her poor sweet Lord M! She loved him so much; she resolved to make him as happy as he made her. For however long they had together. She would not waste a moment. “I promise, my love,” she swore, tears still sliding down her cheeks. “I promise.”

He gently wiped away her tears; seeing her like this broke his heart. Yet, he’d spoken the truth. He could not leave her now. Losing her would only hasten his own demise. She was the light in his world. He would stay, as long as he could. “I love you, Victoria. More than you know.”

“I love you too, William.” She turned a little, straightening her skirts while resting her head on his chest. She could hear his heart beating; it was soothing. He was right; she didn’t want to think about a life without him. It was frightening. He’d taught her everything she knew about being a queen. He helped her when she lost her way; he showed her how to love and be loved in return. How could she ever say goodbye to him? She’d tried before and failed.

She couldn’t worry about it now. She’d made her choice. Lord M was the man she loved. She’d fought for him; she would continue to fight for him. They would be happy. For as long as the Lord gave them. That was what mattered.

Melbourne rubbed her back, hoping to soothe her. It would not due to have her face the German like this. Leopold had reminded him pointedly of the same thing he’d just told Victoria. He was not a young man. Far sooner than he wanted, he would leave her. Alone. A young widow, possibly with children. Oh, how he wanted to give her children! She’d spoken to him of her fears, of childbirth in particular. Even if they did manage to wait some time before getting her with child, she would eventually need to produce an heir. He could just imagine her petite form, swollen with his child. It was a beautiful sight.

But what was better for Victoria? A young fit husband that would due his utmost to keep her pregnant and away from her duties? A young man that did not respect her and wanted to mold her into his idea of the perfect wife? A young man who would smother her spirit and identity? Nothing in life was certain. Even the fittest young men could die.

It was dilemma with no good option. The choice was hers. And Melbourne would never take that from her. If she’d chosen Albert, he would have accepted that. It would have shredded what was left of his heart, but he would have done it. For her sake. Yet, by some miracle, she wanted _him._ He was powerless against her. He would do everything he could to make her happy.

Victoria wished for nothing more than to stay in Lord M’s arms, but her cousins were waiting. She rose, pausing to smooth out her gown before splashing some cool water on her face. “You’ll be in the Council chamber?”

“Indeed, Ma’am.” Her eyes still held traces of red, but she looked much calmer than before. “You’ll be splendid.”

Her smile flickered. “I hope so.”

Melbourne bent slightly to brush a kiss to her forehead. “I have yet to see you fail, Ma’am.”

* * *

 

Emma rubbed her temples; the beginnings of a headache were building behind her eyes. She was restless. They’d been in 1839 London for almost three weeks now; more than ever, she wanted to go home. Her homesickness was eased by the fact that they’d finally found a way to communicate with their loved ones. The message she’d left in the book for Henry had been received! Her son quickly assured her that everything was fine back in Storybrooke; he and Regina and Belle were working to find a way to get them home. Much to Emma’s dismay, Regina seemed to agree with Killian’s theory about them being in a story. Find the happy ending, find the way home.

Whose happy ending? Victoria and Melbourne’s? That made the most sense. Emma didn’t think it was a coincidence, being dropped into Victorian London at _this_ time. The woman defined an entire age; she was Important, with a capital I. Emma genuinely liked the young woman behind the crown; Victoria had become her friend. It would be hard to say goodbye to her. But this was not their home. Emma and Killian had a life they needed to get back to.

Emma heard the door open and close with a soft click. Her husband’s familiar footfalls approached; she shivered as his fingertips brushed the case of her neck. He didn’t speak; he simply began to knead her flesh firmly. Emma hummed appreciatively, leaning back into his touch. “Thanks.”

“Everything alright, love?”

“Yes. No.” She sighed. “Sorry, I’m just a little frustrated.”

“Missing home again?”

“You don’t?”

He chuckled. “Do I miss breaking up bar fights or having one of your parents barging in?”

“Hey, they stopped doing that! Well, Dad has.”

“Because we scarred him for life.”

Emma laughed in spite of herself. It had been highly embarrassing at the time, but now it was funny. And a bit of payback as well. After being married for over a year, her parents should have known better. Emma and Killian still seemed to be in the honeymoon phase. She wondered if they always would be. Was this what True Love was? Sure, they had small spats—like any other couple—but those never lasted long. Sometimes Emma wondered if Killian picked those small tiffs so they could make up later. “Did the Enchanted Forest suffer from a lack of privacy, Captain Jones?”

He shrugged. “I spent most of my life on board ships, darling. Little to no privacy to be had there.”

“What about the captain’s quarters?”

He smirked, slipping his arms around her waist. “Why, Swan, you know that anyone could be lurking in the dark…”

She shivered, his breath warm on her skin. She remembered that adventure well. She’d volunteered herself to keep Hook busy while Killian convinced her mother to steal the ring from Charming as payment for passage on his ship. A few drinks (more for Hook than herself) and some intense flirting; she’d been surprised at how drawn she was to that version of the man she knew. At the time, she’d chalked it up to a lack of emotional attachment—Killian Jones was one of the sexiest men she’d ever known—but later, she realized it was more than that. She honestly didn’t know what she would have done if her Killian hadn’t been lurking.

“I liked it, you know,” she murmured, her eyes fluttering shut as he continued to massage her neck. They were in the middle of the palace library, but she made no effort to stop him. “You were jealous.”

Killian growled, nipping at her earlobe. “Bloody right,” he whispered darkly. “Someone was touching what was mine.”

“I wasn’t yours yet,” she reminded him breathlessly.

“You were. You simply didn’t know it yet.” He kissed down her elegant throat, his false hand dropping to her belly. “I saw the way you kissed him, Swan. You _liked it.”_

The pounding in her head faded, replaced by the pounding in her heart. He wasn’t wrong. She had liked kissing Captain Hook. “I had to keep up the act,” she mock protested. “Couldn’t…let…him…suspect.” Her husband nibbled at her throat, warming her to the core.

“You wanted him,” he accused, his hand plucking at the laces of her gown. “You wanted to be ravished by a pirate, like some common wench.”

Emma’s breathing hitched, her nipples stiffening under her shift. She leaned back, thrusting her chest out, encouraging him to yank her dress down. “I wanted you,” she confessed at last, rubbing her thighs together. “Any way I could get you.”

Killian made a choked needy sound. Emma cried out as he yanked her out of the chair and deposited her on the wooden table. “Lock the door,” he ordered, quickly fusing his lips to hers. Emma mewled into his hungry kiss, securing the oak doors with a wave of her hand. It was the middle of the day; light streamed in from the tall windows. She pushed at his jacket with fumbling fingers, letting out a little shriek as he pulled her to the very edge of the table. “You make me so bloody crazy.”

Emma drew his head down to her chest, letting out low moan as he latched onto a pert nipple. “Show me,” she breathed, running her fingers through his hair. “Show me how you would have fucked me that night.” With a wave of her hand, she transformed them, turning them back into Captain Hook and his wench. If they were going to do this, then she wanted it all.

Killian raised his head, his blue eyes nearly swallowed by black. “You deserve my prompt and full attention,” he teased, a knowing smirk on his lips. He’d been haunted by the phantom of some bold blonde lass for years afterward; he’d assumed his mind was playing tricks on him. If he’d believed for a moment that the woman he’d kissed was real, he would have moved heaven and earth to find her. He should have known it was his Swan. Even before they met, she was changing his life.

“God yes.” She drew his mouth back to hers, hitching her leg around his hip. She yanked her skirts out of the way, trying to grind herself over his growing erection.

“Fucking hell, woman,” he murmured. The floor was hard but that didn’t stop him from dropping to his knees. He parted her thighs, pleased to see her lack of underwear. Emma was just as eager as he, his wanton lover; he planned in taking full advantage. Already her sex was wet and swollen, her lower lips begging for his mouth. He teased her, stroking her clit with his thumb while he tongued her weeping hole. There was a soft thump as Emma fell back on her elbows, bracing her feet on his shoulders. Killian was merciless, toying with her, his talented mouth slowly winding her up. His scruff burned her inner thighs; it was delicious.

“Oh fuck,” she breathed, her back arching. “Don’t stop. God, please don’t stop.”

Killian placed a lingering kiss to her clit, slowly easing two fingers into her heat. He pumped them slowly, drinking in her aroused form. “Hmm, such a needy wench,” he purred. “So wet and eager to be fucked.”

Emma pushed herself up, rolling her hips, fucking his fingers. She pulled him close, mouth hot on his, moaning as she tasted herself. “Show me what you’ve got, Captain. I can take it.”

Killian brought his wet fingers to her lips, his cock twitching as she licked his fingers clean. “Stand up. Bend over the chair.”

Emma did as he bid, moving slowly due to shaky legs. She held on to the chair as her lover stripped her naked; her breathing eased by the removal of her corset. Her whole body tingled in anticipation; she heard him shucking his own clothes. The city of London was visible out the window; Emma wondered if anyone could see them. Probably not, but it was exciting to think about.

Killian groaned as his cock sprang free; he liked having Emma bent over and on display for him. He ran his hand and hook down her spine, over her fuckable arse, between her legs. “Dripping,” he murmured in her ear. “My needy wench.” He followed her gaze as he stroked her lightly. “Hmm, a naughty one too.”

Emma hummed, her head falling down as she basked in his touch. But Killian wasn’t about to let her off that easily. “Methinks the lady likes to be watched,” he purred, dipping his fingers inside. “Would you like that, wench? My crew right outside, listening to your screams as I ravish you, over and over?” His strokes became rougher, her arousal easing his passage. Emma let out a needy moan, widening her stance. His fingers were stroking her perfectly, his words melting her from the inside out. “I can feel how much you want that, darling. Drenching my hand, you are.”

“Yes,” she breathed, using the leverage from her heels to rock against him. “More.”

“I won’t share you.” He pressed against her, letting her feel his cock, thick and aching for her. “This quim is all mine. Mine to use as I see fit.”

Emma arched, eager for him to just take her already. “All yours, Captain,” she promised. “Fuck.”

He wrenched himself away, fighting the urge to simply have her. No, he wanted to tease her for a little while longer. “Up on the desk. Spread those knees for me.” She scrambled to obey him; she was gorgeous bent over, her ass in the air, her thighs coated in her arousal. He lapped at her sex, addicted to her taste. Years they’d been together now, and he was just as enamored with her as he ever was. Back home, they had jobs, responsibilities, family. And Killian loved their life. But he wouldn’t deny that he was taking full advantage of this time with his wife. It was almost like having another honeymoon, a time that was solely for _them._ Her moans made his cock twitch; he took himself in hand, stroking firmly, trying to take the edge off his need for her. “Such a pretty cunt,” he purred. “We’re going to have so much fun.”

Emma bit her lip, need coiling tighter in her belly. She didn’t—couldn’t—stop herself from rocking against his face, his tongue magic against her flesh. “More, Captain,” she begged softly. “More.”

“As you wish.” He stood, dragging his hook through her swollen folds. Emma gasped, the cold metal electric on her aching core. She arched, whimpers falling from her lips. She ground wantonly over the curved edge, her lover’s warm lips sliding wetly over her back. “Do you want to come, darling? Do you crave it?”

“Yes!” She was louder than was prudent, but she was past caring. This was exactly what she’d craved on that adventure all those years ago. She realized now that she’d cheated herself out of so much time. Her fears kept her shackled, afraid to reach out and accept the love and devotion Killian offered her. He wasn’t perfect—neither was she—but they were incredible together. She was a fool for denying herself this.

She was rather enjoying making up for lost time.

Killian reached around, grabbing her roughly and plucking at her nipple. “Come for your captain, lass. _Come.”_

Emma’s hands slipped on the polished surface as she climaxed, gushing all over his hook. Killian stroked her through her high, leaving her a quivering mess. “There’s a good lass,” he praised, leaning close. “Such a good girl.”

Cool wood touched her skin as she stretched out over the long table. Killian scrambled up after her, his lips never leaving her skin. She sank her fingers into his hair as he grew closer, his firm body slithering up hers. Killian’s mouth found hers in a heated kiss; he groaned as she raked her nails down his back, her fingers sinking into the firm flesh of his ass. “Fuck me,” she panted, canting her hips. “Please!”

Killian angled his hips just right and thrust home, taking her hard and deep. Emma cried out, her grip on him painful, but it was perfect. She was hot, wet, snug around his cock; he stilled, simply to bask in her perfection. Emma dragged his mouth back to hers, kissing him hungrily. “All. Mine,” he growled, hips moving in short rough thrusts. “Mine.”

“Yes, god yes,” she gasped, hips moving to meet his. She hooked her feet at the base of his spine, holding him close as he took her hard and fast. He ground against her just right, his cock filling her up. A second climax caught her by surprise, her walls squeezing him tight. Killian grunted, withdrawing before he could follow. Emma whined in frustration; didn’t he know she needed _him?_ Needed him inside her, marking her, claiming her as his own?

“Not done with you, wench,” he murmured, rolling her onto her side. He drew her hips against his, his fingers toying with her swollen nub. Emma shuddered, reaching behind her to touch him. Their lips met in a sloppy kiss, his clever hand keeping her aroused. “Waited so long for you,” he murmured. “So long.”

Emma rolled over, pushing him onto his back. “No more waiting,” she promised. She straddled him quickly, mouth hot on his. She rubbed herself against him wantonly, the way she wanted to all those years ago. “I’m here now.”

“Ride me, love. Please.”

“Hmm, the captain begging? I like it,” she teased. She guided him to her, not bothering to hide her moan of pleasure as she stretched to take him in. She used to laugh at all his cocky innuendos, even as she wondered if he could back it up. How wrong she’d been! He was made for her, every inch of him fitting inside her.

“Only for you, lass,” he assured her. His hand and hook slid up her body, watching as she moved sensuously over him.

Emma braced her hands on his chest, rolling her hips. She glanced toward the window, another wave of arousal rolling through her. She didn’t know why the idea of someone catching them like this aroused her, but it did.

“Faster, love,” he panted. “Faster.”

She bent down, kissing him hard as her hips rose and fell, faster and faster until her thighs burned with the effort. Unexpectedly, a rough hand came down on her ass; Emma cried out. Over and over he struck her, dragging her with him in bliss. She _felt_ his climax, his cock twitching within her, marking her with his seed. She whimpered in pleasure, holding him close. Her lover. Her pirate. Her husband. Her True Love.

Killian held her until she stopped trembling, his lips touching her temple tenderly. “Love you, my darling.”

She smiled into his chest. “Hmm, love you too, husband.”

“Sometimes I still have trouble believing it. We made it here. You married me.”

“Of course I did, babe. I’m just sorry it took me so long to figure us out.”

Killian shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. You know I wouldn’t change anything.”

“Maybe. I just know I never want to hurt you again.” She kissed him fervently, even as she shivered a little from the cold.

“Hey, hey, stay here with me,” he scolded. “What’s past is past. We’re going to have a long life together, you and me. I promise.”

“Good, because you’re stuck with me, pirate.”

“And there is nowhere else I would rather be. I belong wherever you are.”

“Even getting sucked in wacky time portals?”

“Especially then. It’s one of the few ways I can get you alone, lass.”

She chuckled. “Yeah, I see your point. We don’t get a lot of that unfortunately.”

“I knew your family came with you,” he promised. “I’m simply the greedy bastard who wants you all to his lonesome.”

She blushed. “Taking full advantage of our impromptu vacation?”

“Damn right.”

He was right. She missed Henry and her parents; she missed home. But they had proof that they were safe. They could communicate. Why shouldn’t she enjoy this time with her husband? Especially if they were going to start trying for a kid soon? “Okay. I promise I’ll try to enjoy this more.”

“I think you’re doing a fine job already.” He gave her a playful smack. “I wonder how many more rooms we can christen before we go home?”

She groaned. “We gotta stop doing that.”

“Why? Don’t lie, Swan, I know you like it.”

She flushed a deeper red. “That’s not the point,” she grumbled. “We’re taking advantage of our host.”

“Trust me, our host has other things on her mind. She’s engaged now.”

“Thanks to you.”

“Thanks to both of us,” he corrected. “Don’t be modest, Swan.”

Emma bit her lip. “Do you think we did the right thing? What if we’ve changed things? In our world?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I guess we’ll have to cross that bridge when we get there.”

She chuckled. “The story of our lives.”

“At least it’s never boring.”

She smacked his shoulder. “Watch it, pirate.”

“Is that anyway to treat your captain, wench?”

She tried to scramble away, but he held her fast. She struggled and giggled, her mirth melting under his playful assault. “Killian!”

“What is it, wife?”

“Let me go! We should get dressed.”

“Or…you could transport us back to bed,” he countered with waggling brows.

“You’re hopeless.”

“And you love it.”

She did. God help her, she did.

 

* * *

 

Victoria took a deep breath, cautiously rechecking her hair. Any moment, the doors would open, and she would be face to face with her Privy Council. This was her time. She was the Queen of England. Her forebears ruled in England for centuries. It was in her blood. She would make these small minded men understand and gain their acceptance. Not consent. She didn’t need their consent. _She_ was the monarch.

Oh, she would do her duty. Victoria would marry and have heirs. But she would do it on _her_ terms. Not her mother’s. Not her uncle’s. Not her councilors’. She would be happy.

“Her Majesty the Queen!”

The doors opened; Victoria stepped through, her head held high. Her eyes searched for Lord M; there he was! Standing just off to her right, in the shadows. His lips twitched in one corner, his head gave her a subtle nod. Just that small gesture was enough to steal her spine. Every eye in the room was upon her; his were the only ones that mattered.

“My lords, welcome.”

Everyone bowed before her. “On behalf of us all, it is a joy to see you again, Your Majesty,” the Duke of Wellington said gruffly. He looked older than Victoria remembered; it was a pity that he wasn’t fit enough to form a government on her behalf. She would much rather deal with him than the traitorous Peel. She spotted him to her left, trying to shrink into the corner, unseen.

Silence reigned for a long moment. Some of them knew. Or thought they knew. Ever since Albert’s arrival, news of her engagement seemed to be a matter of time. The weight of those expectations nearly suffocated her. It was only Lord M—and her new friends—that kept her from doing something she would regret.

She cleared her throat. “We come to you bearing happy tidings, my lords.” She smiled, fighting the urge to glance in William’s direction. “We have long since understood our duty to marry and provide heirs to our crown.”

“It’s about time,” someone muttered.

Victoria ignored the interruption. “We have come to inform you of our choice, my lords. We pray you will wish us well. I have asked William Lamb, Viscount Melbourne, to marry me and he has accepted.”

Chaos reigned. A chorus of voices shouted all at once. She didn’t try to dissect all of it; there was no point. There seemed to be only three calm faces: Peel, Wellington and Lord M.

“He’s a Whig, a politician!” someone shouted. “Imagine the scandal!”

More men called out their objections; Victoria had heard them all. Repeatedly. From her mother and Leopold and Albert. Even Lord M had tried to convince her of his unsuitability. She would not hear it. No, he wasn’t perfect, but he was the man she loved. The only man she could see a future with. She tried not to think about their earlier conversation—his conviction that they did not have much time—she had to follow her heart. Her heart yearned for William. She could not—would not—deny that any longer.

William watched her carefully; she was so strong. She stood there calmly as they insulted him, railed against him. He’d tried the best he could to prepare her for it; that did not make it easier to bear. His heart hurt for her. She did not deserve this. He had to do something. “My lords,” he said. No one heard him. He said it again, louder. Gradually, the room quieted. “As you know I have already resigned as Prime Minister. I have no desire to reenter public life. You need not fear on that account.”

“The Queen must marry royalty,” one of the lords argued. “You, Lord Melbourne, are decidedly not.”

“There is no such provision in the Royal Marriages Act,” Victoria said clearly. “The monarch’s consort much be unmarried, a Protestant and consented to by the monarch. Which I believe I am, am I not, my lord?”

The man glanced away. “Of course, Ma’am, but you don’t understand…”

“Just what don’t I understand? I have been taught my duty from childhood. I am my father’s daughter, a soldier’s daughter. Who, pray tell, understands duty better than I?” She stepped closer, her chin held high. “However, I do not see why my duty and my happiness are mutually exclusive. Since taking the throne, a parade of princelings has been brought before me for my…inspection. It is unseemly, my lords.” A few of them had the decency to look ashamed. “I am young, I have much to learn. But in this, I will not be swayed. I will have Lord Melbourne for my husband. I am here today as a curtesy. That is all.”

“The monarch has always gotten the approval of the Privy Council before marrying, Your Majesty.” It was Robert Peel who spoke.

“Yes, Sir Robert?”

“I will admit that I had…reservations,” he said carefully. “But Lord Melbourne is a good man. If he is your choice, then you have my support.”

A guttural sound got everyone’s attention. The Duke of Wellington stepped forward. “What of His Serene Highness, Prince Albert? A great many of us expected him to be your choice, Ma’am.”

She glanced to Lord M; he nodded back. They needed to know the truth. At least most of it. “Prince Albert and I are not…compatible, Duke. Which is just as well, as I have no intention of having my kingdom to be ruled from Coburg or Belgium.” As succinctly as she could, she outlined when she knew about her uncle’s schemes, leaving out the name of his conspirator. She’d promised Peel her silence in return for his support. He was keeping up his end of the bargain; she must do the same.

But she would never trust him.

“So you see, my lords, a foreign match would be quite unsuitable.”

There was more grumbling, but it slowly subsided. Once more the Duke of Wellington stepped forward. “We wish you joy, Ma’am.”

“Thank you, Duke.” She turned on her heel and left. Lord M could take care of the rest. There were still matters to be finalized—her consort needed a title and an allowance, among others—but she would agree to whatever he wanted. She wanted him to be happy. She knew he loved her for herself and not her title. It was a rare thing; she intended to cherish it.

“I hear congratulations are in order.”

Victoria stopped, wincing inwardly. Ernest. She’d meant to see him and Albert prior to visiting the Privy Council, but she could not bear to leave her lover’s embrace. It was selfish, but after the way Albert treated her, she thought she was entitled to it. “Yes, cousin. I thank you. As a matter of fact, I was just looking for you. And Albert.”

“Last I saw him, he was in the music room.”

“Shall we then?”

Ernest offered her his arm. “It would be my pleasure.”

It was rather a long walk to the music room; the silence was unbearable. “I wanted to thank you, Ernest.”

“Whatever for, cousin?”

“Emma told me about what you did that day. What you said. It means a great deal to me.” She gently drew them to a stop. “I never meant to hurt him, Ernest. I pray that he finds happiness. And you.”

“You did nothing wrong, Victoria. Our uncle was wrong to try and force you to love someone you did not.” Ernest smiled. “I wish you every happiness. I look forward to returning for a christening or two in the future?”

“I would like that, Ernest. Very much.”

All too quickly their stroll led them to where Albert waited. As they approached, she could hear the strains of Schubert fill the air. It was a melancholy piece; did it reflect the mood of the player? Was he sorry for how he’d treated her? Or was he sorry for losing the title of consort? She couldn’t be sure. Lord M thought she needed to know, or she would not find peace.

Ernest left her at the door. Victoria pushed it open; it took Albert a few moments to realize she’d entered. He stood hastily. “Apologies, cousin. I did not hear you come in.”

“I am sorry, if I interrupted you.”

“It is no matter.”

Victoria stepped forward. Now that he was in front of her, she desperately wanted to know what was in his heart. “Albert…”

He stepped forward. “I believe I owe you an apology, cousin,” he said clearly. “For what happened at Windsor. My behavior was deplorable. I beg for your forgiveness.”

That helped a little, but it wasn’t what she needed. “Why, Albert? Why did you just…abandon me? Do you truly hate me that much?”

He looked startled. “Hate you? I never hated you, Victoria.”

“Then why? You left me _alone._ In the cold and the wet, lost. If Lord M hadn’t found me…”

His jaw clenched at the mention of Lord M, his voice tight. “I tried to go back. As soon as it started to rain. But when I got there, you were nowhere to be found. I rode straight back to the castle, seeking help. Your precious _Lord Melbourne_ accosted me and accused me of abandoning you.”

Victoria couldn’t help the swell of pride; oh, how she wished she could have seen that! “I was scared. Dash was hurt and you simply…left. I had no idea if you’d return; I had to look after myself.”

“Perhaps it was a good thing then.”

Her hackles rose. “Just what do you mean?”

“You rely too much on others,” he said baldly. “You are a queen.”

“That’s quite a statement, coming from someone who sought to rule me from the marriage bed. Despite what you _think_ you know, Lord Melbourne respects me. There have been many times that I have rejected his counsel…to my later regret. He has only ever had my best interests at heart and I thank God for him. I am proud to be his wife.”

Albert blinked. “You’re marrying _him?”_

“Yes. I am. I have just informed the Privy Council. I have their support.”

“The people…”

“My people have only ever wanted my happiness. What do you think they would prefer? A foreign prince that has no connection to them? Or a respected member of the English nobility?” She sighed. “In the end, it does not matter. I love William. He loves me. I only want to make him happy.”

“He is old, Victoria. He will leave you a widow.”

She took a deep breath. Enough of this. “I have made my choice, Albert. If you can not respect that or wish me joy, then I suggest you remove yourself back to Coburg. As quickly as possible.” Why could he not simply be happy for her? Why did he have to be so difficult? It was probably childish, but she didn’t wait for a response. She swept from the room with every ounce of dignity she could muster.

Victoria sagged when arrived back at her chambers. Today was a victory. She’d won the support of the Privy Council! Announcing her engagement to the nation would be equally delicate, but she was confident. She hadn’t been lying to Albert when she spoke of the people’s preference for an English marriage. Lord M had told her so ages ago. She’d taken hope from it then, praying it was his way of indicating his feelings for her. Then came Brocket Hall and heartbreak. They’d been on such a long journey, she and her Lord M. They just needed to be patient a little longer.

The click of the door roused her from her thoughts. “Victoria?”

A smile curved her lips. “Lord M!” She rose, crossing the room quickly. She reached him just as he closed the door; he looked pensive, which brought her up short. “What’s wrong?”

“We must talk.”

That sounded ominous. “Is it the Privy Council? I thought…”

He silenced her with a look. Not harsh, just…commanding. In another context, she thought she would enjoy it. “They haven’t withdrawn their support. Some, nay most, are not _pleased_ , but after hearing about the Prince’s behavior and Leopold’s machinations, they will bow to reality.”

“Then what?”

“Come, sit with me.” She tilted her head as he took her hand and guided them back to their couch. Silence reigned for a few moments. William stared at their joined hands, finally bringing hers to his lips and kissing it. “You have given me such an extraordinary gift, Victoria. Do you know that?”

“William, I don’t understand.”

“I do not deserve you, I know that,” he continued. “But for some unfathomable reason, you love me.”

“Of course I love you. I’ve only ever loved you.”

“Something that I pray you will never come to regret,” he replied solemnly. “But that is all I need from you. Your love. I require nothing else.”

His mood suddenly became clear. “Did they refuse you? I thought my request quite reasonable.”

“Ma’am, I’m afraid you misunderstand. Yes, the Privy Council haggled a bit over your request, but it was I who rejected it.”

“You? Why? I don’t understand.” As her consort, he had a right to a title and an allowance. Leopold still drew his allowance and her cousin Charlotte had been dead for decades! Why shouldn’t her beloved Lord M get the same thing?

William touched the ring on her finger. “Victoria, I have my own money. I am a noble in this country, as I’m sure you recall.”

“Yes, but…”

“I don’t want yours. This marriage will be hard enough for people to accept; they’ll think I married you for money. Or to take advantage of you. They already think I control you.”

“That’s patently ridiculous.”

“People talk, Ma’am. The difference in our ages and station will wag more than one tongue. Those older men marrying young women you mentioned? Those matches always involve money, not love.” She started to speak; he placed a gentle finger to her lips. “I know you love me, Victoria. I don’t need your money to prove that.”

“It’s tradition,” she said finally. “I just thought…” She paused. “I should have asked you first. I’m sorry.”

He pressed his lips to her forehead. “You did nothing wrong, my love. I just wanted you to understand.”

“Will you at least accept a title?” she asked hopefully.

“Is it so important to you?”

Her eyes widened, horrified. “I love you just as you are, Lord M! I just thought…” She squeezed his fingers. “I was speaking to the Lord Chamberlain and he explained a few things. Since you are not royalty, I will have to issue a special decree so that our children will be. So they can inherit the crown. And I will gladly do it. When the time is right, I hope the Lord will bless us with many children…” Having one child scared her, but there was nothing she wouldn’t do for her beloved.

Suddenly her meaning was clear. “You wanted to provide for the younger ones,” he murmured. He was touched by her thoughtfulness. “In that case, my love, I will accept. On one condition.”

“Name it.”

“Nothing overly pompous. Nothing princely. Nobleman I am, and I mean to stay one.”

She smiled. “Very well. My lord Duke.”

“A duke, eh?”

“And why not? I think _Duke_ of Melbourne would suit you quite nicely.”

“And you get to keep your pet name for me.”

“Is that so wrong?”

He laughed. “No, darling. I find I’m rather fond of it.” She could call him whatever she wished, as long as he got to call her his own. He leaned down, brushing his lips over hers. She hummed, her fingers cupping his cheek. William shivered as her fingers sank into his hair, her nails scratching his scalp. “Victoria…”

“Kiss me, William.”

He growled, wrapping his arms around her, maneuvering them so she lay on her back. Her smile as he settled above her eased any linger reservations he possessed; all that mattered was that she would be _his._

 

* * *

 

“I think we should go for a drive,” Victoria announced at breakfast. Since her mother continued to keep to her rooms, Victoria had no compunction about taking a quiet breakfast with her fiancé and her dearest friends in her chambers.

“A drive? Where?”

“Out amongst the people. I haven’t been out since my…attack. I feel like I should see my people. Don’t you agree, Lord M?”

William lowered his napkin. “There has been talk, Ma’am, but…”

“You see! I need to be seen. Emma, will you and Killian accompany us?”

“Us, Ma’am?”

“Naturally, William. We’ve been in public together before.”

“Yes, but things have changed.”

“Are you talking about the grotesque article?” They’d taken great pains in presenting their case to the press. Leopold’s machinations were leaked to a friendly paper, aside from Sir Robert’s role. Public opinion shifted almost overnight; thankfully, Ernest and Albert had already left for Coburg. There were calls for an end to Leopold’s allowance in Parliament, or barring that, some other consequences for Belgium. William didn’t believe anything would come of it, but the expression of patriotism warmed Victoria’s heart.

She thought the time was right to announce their engagement. William knew there would never be a _good_ time, so he didn’t argue the point too strenuously. They gave leave to Sir Robert to announce it in Parliament then awaited events.

That had been a week ago. He spent the first couple of nights at Brocket Hall, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention. It was unexpected agony; he’d grown accustomed to sleeping with his queen in his arms. Incredibly selfish of him, but he couldn’t help it. He spent much of the nights in his glass houses, tending his flowers. It calmed him, as it reminded him of her. Victoria did not fare any better; she summoned him on the morning of the third day. He came back to the palace gladly. Still, he feared public reaction to them, to her safety in particular. But she couldn’t cultivate their love without being seen among them. That, he knew.

“I speak of more than that,” he chided gently. “As you know.”

Victoria nodded sadly. “Yes, I know. But I can’t shake the feeling that being seen among the people would help. The papers can say what they like. It’s the people’s love I want.” She wanted to be the people’s monarch.

“If you think it will help, then we’d be glad to go with you,” Emma said, sharing a look with her husband. Henry had finally explained when he’d been trying to do with the book. One of his teachers assigned an “alternative history” creative writing project. He was having trouble coming up with an idea, until he spotted one of Killian’s borrowed history books. Once he started writing, words seemed to pour out of him. He didn’t realize that he was actually _creating_ the world he’d made up in his head.

In Henry’s version of the story, Queen Victoria was meant to marry Lord Melbourne. Until that happened, the story wasn’t finished. And until the story was complete, Emma and Killian couldn’t get home. They had to see Victoria and William safely married; only then would the portal appear.

“Aye, it would be nice get outside the palace,” Killian chimed in.

“Then it’s settled. I’ll have them ready my carriage.”

William drew his friend aside after breakfast. “Killian, I am still unsure about the Queen’s plan.”

“Any particular reason, William?”

He shrugged, somewhat helpless. “I am used to carrying some anxiety when she goes out. I used to convince myself it was because of her status as Queen, but even then, it was more than that.”

Killian rested his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I know exactly how you feel, mate. But we can’t hold them back. They’re more than just ours.”

William nodded. “You’re right, of course.”

“We’ll be right beside them.”

One hour later, the quartet departed in Victoria’s carriage. Baroness Lehzen protested fiercely—she was almost as upset about Victoria’s engagement as the Duchess of Kent—but Victoria overruled her. For propriety’s sake, Emma and Victoria sat on one side of the carriage with William and Killian on the other. Killian had his sword tucked between his leg and the seat, just in case. The weather was fine, sunny and crisp, a proper fall day. Emma forced herself not to poke at her bonnet; she hated the damn thing. But it was what was done.

They were surrounded by soldiers. It wasn’t ideal, but Victoria was happy to be out of the palace. The horses edged people out of the way; it took them a few moments to realize it was the Queen passing by. The shock of seeing their monarch after so much time lingered in the air; everyone felt it. Victoria smiled and waved, hoping that her nerves didn’t show. She wanted to believe that her people would be content with her choice of husband, but there was no way to _know._ This was the first test.

“God bless Your Majesty!” a woman cried. A gentlewoman, Victoria noted. The woman held the hand of her small daughter, who was smiling and waving enthusiastically.

The cry seemed to break the tension; more cries of greeting surrounded them. Relief washed through the Queen and her party; Killian released his grip on his sword. He shot Emma a playful grin, silently daring her to do her best royal wave. Emma rolled her eyes at him, but she couldn’t resist the urge. Here she actually was a princess; who would blame her for playing the part?

Lord Alfred approached the carriage on his horse. “Your Majesty, there appears to be an obstruction ahead. I recommend we hold here, unless you would like to return to the palace?”

Victoria shook her head. “We’ve hardly begun, Lord Alfred. See to it, then we shall go on.”

“Very good, Ma’am.”

“Have you ever seen this part of London?” Victoria asked her companions.

Emma nodded. “We did a bit of sightseeing when we first arrived,” she half lied. Once they realized where they were, they spent most of their first day searching for a way to find Victoria. Their search just happened to take them past some of London’s most famous landmarks.

“Unfortunately, my darling wife has a nose for trouble,” Killian teased gently. She shot him a look; he shrugged. “Don’t look at me like that, love. You know I’m right.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said dismissively. She turned back to Victoria. “We just happened to be in right place at the right time.”

The carriage started moving again; instinctively, Victoria gripped the edge of door to steady herself. Melbourne reached out, covering her hand with his. She beamed at him. Each wore gloves, but the warmth in his gaze made up for it.

“Cold, Ma’am?”

Victoria shook her head. “I am quite well, Lord M.” He folded their hands back into the carriage; he didn’t let her go. Seeing her out with her people, people who cheered her, called out blessings…perhaps she was right. The papers might not hold the sway he once believed. She was in her element; her warmth and love for her people shining through. It was one of the things that made him fall in love with her in the first place.

The crowd thinned out as more and more trees lined the lane. One turn through the park, then they could return to the palace. Victoria made a mental list of tasks for when they returned. Now that she had the support of the Privy Council, it was time to start planning her wedding. She hoped the event could take place relatively soon; she was getting tired of waiting. She’d already waited too long.

The shot came out of nowhere.

An earsplitting pop rent the air, following almost instantly by splintering wood. Someone screamed; Victoria felt herself being pushed down to the floor. Another crack, and other, men shouted, horses whined; her guard scrambled to find the shooter, circling the carriage.

Emma grunted in pain as Killian grabbed her shoulder and pushed her to the floor, already cramped with the Queen and their voluminous skirts. “Stay down, Swan!” Killian shouted.

“Are you _kidding me?”_ She forced her way back up, her arms outstretched. Before she could conjure any magic, another shot rang out; she ducked instinctively. Storybrooke didn’t have a lot of shoot outs; she was accustomed to magical foes. She regrouped quickly, conjuring a shield over the carriage. “Get us out of here!” she shouted at the driver. “Now!”

She stumbled as the carriage lurched forward; Killian caught her before she could fall. She needed all her concentration to keep the shield in place. “Victoria, are you alright?” What was wrong with people? Who would want to see harm come to this young woman? It made no sense.

Victoria heard Emma calling; she struggled to sit up. A heavy weight lay sprawled over her back. “I am quite alright, William,” she grumbled. But he didn’t move. “William?” She pushed again. “William?!”

Killian grabbed his friend’s shoulder and yanked him up. “Bloody hell.” Melbourne’s shoulder was soaked in blood; his head lolled. Killian yanked off the scarf around his neck and pressed it to his friend’s shoulder. “He’s alive,” he said to Victoria. “But I need you to hold this right here. Can you do that?”

Fear like she’d never experienced seized her. She couldn’t lose him. Not now. Not when they were so close to becoming husband and wife! It was too horrible to contemplate. So she shoved it aside. Lord M needed her. She followed Killian’s instructions, pressing as firmly as she could on William’s shoulder. He groaned softly; she almost cried in relief. He _was_ alive. His handsome face was ashen; his brilliant green eyes closed.

“Vic…Vic…”

“Shhh,” she scolded softly. “I’m right here.”

“Safe?”

“I am perfectly safe.” She pressed a kiss to his brow; he winced in pain. “Just be still, my love. We’re nearly to the palace.”

Emma and Killian stood guard the entire way back to Buckingham Palace. The roof of the carriage had been partially ripped away by the gunshots; Killian hacked the rest of it off with his sword. “Can you hold it until we get back?”

Emma nodded, her jaw set. “I got this. Just…make sure he’s okay.” She understood exactly what Victoria was going through; watching the man you love bleeding out was a horror should wouldn’t wish on anyone.

“I think you’ll be more helpful than I,” Killian whispered.

Emma bit her lip. She couldn’t heal William out here in the open; it would raise too many questions. But she couldn’t let him die. If he did, they might never get home. _Hurry,_ she chanted in her head. Hopeflly, once they got back to the palace, she could try. “Keep him alive,” she said to her husband tightly. “Then we’ll see.”

“Aye.” He knelt down, intent on inspecting the wound. “The bullet is still inside, Your Majesty.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means he has a chance.” William had already lost quite a lot of blood, but he seemed stable for the moment. “We need a surgeon to see to him. Just keep pressure on the wound, yeah?”

She nodded. “Okay.” She was numb, following the captain’s orders without truly comprehending them. This was her fault. She’d insisted on going out. If she lost him, she would never forgive herself. “I’m so sorry, William,” she whispered. “So sorry.”

News of the attack must have proceeded them; the courtyard was teeming with people. Emma lowered the shield before they could get too close; being suspected of witchcraft was the last thing they needed right now.

“Drina! Drina!” The Duchess of Kent was running toward them, her face red and splotchy. “Drina!”

Killian took over for the Queen. “I’ve got him. Go.”

She was shaking so hard she could barely stand. Emma helped her friend down from the carriage, then quickly followed. The Duchess was crying hard now, gesturing toward Victoria’s blood soaked front. “It’s not mine, Mama,” Victoria replied. Her voice sounded strange, even to herself. “I am fine.”

“Drina, you must get inside!”

Victoria ignored her mother and turned to the nearest servant. “Fetch the surgeon. Quickly. Lord Melbourne has been injured.”

“Lord Melbourne?” The Duchess asked.

“Yes, Mama. My _fiancé._ I must see to him.” Killian and a couple of soldiers were carrying her beloved down from the carriage; she and Emma followed them into the palace. Victoria felt Emma take her hand; she squeezed back gratefully. “This feels like a nightmare.”

“I know. He’ll be alright, Victoria.”

“Why does this keep happening? Who hates me this much? If something happens to William…”

“We’re going to figure this out. You saw people today. They love you. They want you to be happy. This was one deranged person. You’ll see.”

Killian got Melbourne settled on the narrow couch; it was the nearest flat surface they could find. “Stay with me,” he chided the older man. “Don’t you dare give up.”

Melbourne groaned, wanting nothing more than to sink into oblivion. “The Queen…”

“Is safe. More worried about you. Surgeon’s on the way.”

William reached out with his right hand, gripping Killian’s forearm. “Please tell her…I’m sorry.”

“None of that now. You’re going to be fine _._ ”

“Killian, please…”

Killian shook his head. “No, mate. You tell her yourself. You’ve fought for her; don’t stop now, yeah?”

William nodded, sagging back into the cushion. Victoria needed him. He couldn’t give up. Not now. He had so much he wanted to do, so much life to live. He wanted to see her at their wedding. He’d promised he’d stay as long as he could. He intended to keep that promise. He heard voices, but they were faint. He was fading. He fought to hold on, but the darkness took him.

 

* * *

 

Emma brushed Victoria’s hair back from her face. The queen was asleep. The surgeon had done what he could, extracting the bullet and closing the wound. Fortunately, the bullet missed the major arteries, but some damage had been done. There was a risk of infection, which—given Melbourne’s age—could be very dangerous. After the surgery, they’d moved him to his apartments; Victoria refused to leave him. Emma coaxed her friend into changing out of her blood stained clothes; together, she and Miss Skerrett made the queen more presentable. There had been an ugly scene with the Duchess and the Baroness; Victoria banished them from her sight. For how long? No one knew.

The bed was definitely large enough for two; Victoria lay curled in William’s side, looking much younger than her years. Melbourne was still pale, but peaceful.

“How are they?” Killian whispered, sliding his arms around her waist.

“Sleeping.”

“That’s good.”

“The doctor is worried about infection.”

“Aye, it’s a danger. Especially in a place like this.”

“What do you mean?”

“We don’t have any of Whale’s modern cures, love. I’ve seen what an infection can do to someone.”

“You’re talking about yourself, aren’t you?”

He gently turned her around, nodding. “Aye, after the Crocodile cut off my hand…I was in a bad way. It was cauterized immediately…” Emma winced. “But after, the delirium set in. I was raving, mad with fever and pain. Survived by sheer stubbornness.”

She touched his arm, her fingers curling around his brace. “I’m glad you did.”

“As am I.”

Emma glanced back at their friends; she’d been wrestling with herself since they returned to be palace. It would be so easy to heal Melbourne’s injuries. So easy. But there were so many people around; how would she explain it? Was it the right thing to do? She decided to hang back, to wait until after the doctor had seen him. She still wasn’t sure what to do. “There’s not supposed to be magic here,” she said quietly. She didn’t want to wake Victoria. “What if I heal him and it exposes us? We just barely got out of that jam with Leopold.”

“Aye, but you used magic then too, if memory serves.”

“It’s not the same. He was _shot,_ Killian. You don’t just get right back up from that.”

“The surgeon’s already seen to him. I’m sure the man would be more than willing to take credit for William’s miraculous escape.”

“He might be fine, even without magic.” She didn’t know why she was being so leery about this. She used her magic to heal people all the time. It was one of the more positive perks about being the Savior.

“But for how long? He’s not exactly a young man, love.”

She tilted her head. “What do you know, Killian?”

Killian glanced away; he’d been reluctant to mention it. This wasn’t the history they knew. Henry had changed a few things in his alternate story. He couldn’t be _sure_ what he knew about Melbourne would come to pass in this world. Then again, Lord Melbourne didn’t get shot in the history he knew either. There were no rules, no guidelines. They simply had to do the best they could. “In our world, Melbourne dies in 1848. If he marries Victoria…”

“They would have less than ten years together.” That was unfair. The couple she knew deserved longer than that. They didn’t deserve any of this. What kind of Savior was she if she didn’t help? Wasn’t that what she was supposed to do? Help people find their happy endings? “Alright, I’ll do it. Just keep an eye out, okay?”

“One lookout, coming up,” he promised, placing a kiss to her lips. “Thank you, Swan.”

She shooed him away then walked to the left side of the bed. As carefully as she could, she peeled back the blankets covering the older man. She waited for a moment, but neither stirred. Emma laid her hands over the sutured wound and summoned her power. It flared to life, bright, almost blinding. She willed it into Melbourne, focusing on his shoulder. She still wasn’t entirely sure how this worked. Did it heal everything wrong with the body or just one specific thing? She might have to ask Regina when they got home.

The light went out; Emma peered at the wound. It was gone. The skin was perfect once more. Melbourne would be okay, but at what cost? More importantly, _who_ had attacked them? Emma didn’t know, but she wasn’t leaving until they found out.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the 3 people reading this, thank you for your patience! I enjoyed writing this update, although it took several turns I didn't expect. But I've learned not to fight with my muse. I hope you enjoy it.

“William! William! Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me!”

A dull blow hit him in the ribs, shaking away the last remnants of sleep. William’s eyes flew open, disorienting him further. Where was he? What happened? Who was crying out?

Another kick struck his shin; William groaned. He felt sluggish, like the world around him was underwater. Another anguished cry of his name finally cut through his disorientation; he knew that voice!

Victoria.

William rolled over, peering through the dark. Sure enough, his queen was beside him in the bed, her nightgown tangled around her tiny body as she writhed in despair, caught in the throes of a terrible nightmare. He had to wake her! “Victoria! Victoria, wake up! Wake _up!”_ He shook her shoulder hard, fear settling deep in his chest. Whatever she was seeing had to be awful; she was the strongest person he knew. “Victoria!”

Victoria snapped up, her eyes wide and terrified. Panting, she looked around wildly, calming a fraction when she saw him. “William?!”

“Yes, my love. It’s me.” Victoria promptly threw herself into his arms, knocking the breath from his lungs. He gasped but he didn’t dare let go. She was shaking like a leaf, so tiny and fragile. Fear for her made his chest ache. Oh, his darling girl!

Victoria breathed him in; she prayed he was real. The dream—no, nightmare—had felt _so_ real. William covered in blood, his blood staining her clothes, her hands. She watched him slip away from her, unable to stop it. It was one of the most terrifying things she could imagine.

Wait. That wasn’t right. She _didn’t_ imagine William covered in blood. The carriage ride. The gunshots. William’s blood soaking his shirt, her hand pressed to his shoulder, desperately trying to keep as much blood inside him as she could. Abruptly, she raised her head, her hands frantically touching his face. His skin was warm, stubble covered his chin. He had to be real, right?

As gently as he could, William eased her questing fingers away from his face. “Victoria, what’s wrong? You’re scaring me, darling.”

Her lower lip quivered. “You were shot. Don’t you remember?” Then her eyes widened in horror. “Oh goodness, am I hurting you?” Her eyes dropped to where he’d been shot; her fingers trembled, afraid to touch him.

William blinked, momentarily stunned. Shot? Him? That didn’t make sense. He felt fine. Better than fine. Slowly, his hand reached up to where she stared at his shoulder. William closed his eyes, trying to remember. Yes, they’d taken a carriage ride. So many people, cheering their queen as they passed. The crisp fall air couldn’t seem to touch him; he basked in his queen’s warm glow. He was so proud of her! A bang, a punch. He knew that sound. A gunshot! His mind couldn’t register the pain, focused on a single goal. Keep Victoria safe. He had a vague memory of shoving her down to the floor of the carriage; after that, nothing.

If he had been shot, how could he be sitting up right now? None of this made sense.

“I remember,” he whispered. “Flashes, mostly. We took a carriage ride with Killian and Emma.”

Victoria cried out in relief; the strange look on his face was frightening. “Yes, yes, we did. You saved my life and nearly sacrificed your own! Don’t ever do that again!”

William chuckled dryly. “I’m afraid that is quite beyond even your power, Ma’am.”

Victoria looked like she might slap him for a moment; she contented herself with clenching her tiny fists. “Don’t you dare mock me, Lord M! I am quite serious!”

“I’m not mocking you, Ma’am. But you must know that when it comes to a choice between your life or mine, I will give mine gladly.”

He expected her to rage at him again, but she broke down instead. All the stress of not knowing if he would live or die was too much. She sobbed into his shoulder, holding him with all the strength she could muster. Only once she cried herself out did she raise her head, concern in her red rimmed eyes. “I was so thoughtless!” she cried. “Did I hurt you?”

“Strange as it sounds, I appear to be quite _un_ injured, Ma’am.” He rolled the shoulder in question. “See for yourself.”

She bit her lip as she peeled back the neck of his nightshirt. Confusion contorted her beautiful face. “I don’t understand. There was a wound. Right here.” She touched it gingerly, afraid this was another dream. “I didn’t let go until we arrived back at the palace. Killian showed me how to…how is this possible?”

“I believe you, Victoria.”

She let out a relieved breath. The last thing she needed was for anyone to think she was turning into her grandfather. “But what happened? The doctor removed the bullet; I saw him do it.”

“You saw him? Victoria, were you here the whole time?”

She fixed him with a look. “Where else should I have been? The man I love was being operated on!”

Willian drew her against his chest, both frustrated and relieved. She was a soldier’s daughter after all. “My apologies, Ma’am. I did not mean to cause such scene.”

“I couldn’t leave you,” she replied tearfully. “I just couldn’t.”

How long had it been since someone cared for him like this? Tears stung his eyes, the depth of her love for him heartbreaking and life affirming at the same time. Whether he bore the marks now or not, it had been a close call. He would make the same choice, again and again, but the idea of her in pain shredded his heart. “It is alright, Victoria. I’m right here. We’re both safe.”

The question was…how?

 

* * *

 

Emma slipped from her husband’s arms, unable to sleep. Had she made the right choice? Hours later, she still wasn’t sure. Of course, if Melbourne had died, it meant that she and Killian might have been stuck here forever, but that wasn’t why she’d healed Melbourne. Not really. If the worst had happened, they would simply have found another way home. Emma had never been the kind to give up.

She healed Melbourne because she could not bear to see someone she cared about lose the person they loved. Emma herself had been through that hell—twice—a miracle had brought Killian back to her. She did not know what she would have done if Killian hadn’t come back. What was it her dad always said? _True love lost can never be replaced._

Losing Killian forever might not have killed her, but she would never have been the same. He was the only person she could have spent the rest of her life with. She wouldn’t have found the strength to try again. She would have gone on, for Henry’s sake. But her life would have been empty. She couldn’t stand by and allow Victoria to know that pain. Not when she could stop it.

Now they would have to live with the consequences.

Emma took a peek at her sleeping husband. Killian looked peaceful, boyish. Physically, he was only a couple years older than her, but his eyes carried the weight of the centuries he’d lived. Even now, as happy as they were, she still sometimes saw the darkness he was so afraid of. She knew he’d done terrible things; the guilt he carried would have been overwhelming for a lesser man. Yet, Emma had seen firsthand how hard he tried to atone for his sins. The weight of his past was crushing, yet he bore it. She loved him so much for that. She vowed to spend the rest of her life showing him just how deeply he was loved.

Carefully, Emma bent over the sleeping pirate and brushed a tender kiss to his temple. He didn’t stir, for which she was thankful. She certainly wasn’t going to get back to sleep; there was no reason to wake him. As silently as she could, Emma got herself dressed; she had to use magic to secure the laces at the back of her gown, but it was worth it. Once she was finished, Emma tiptoed out, no real destination in mind. She thought about checking on Victoria and William, but she didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention to the state in which they left them the night before.

The palace was quiet. It was still early, just after sunrise. The sky carried streaks of pink and orange as the sun struggled to rise above the city buildings. It looked so different from the London of her time. The familiar Victoria statue was nowhere to be seen; the city wasn’t nearly as close to the palace. How could so much change in little more than a century? She wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t witnessed it with her own eyes.

They’d left Victoria in Melbourne’s room the night before; neither had the heart to attempt to move her. The queen would have fought them anyway. Being together could only help; Emma could hardly bear to let Killian out of her sight those first few weeks after his return. Killian had assured her that William’s servants could be trusted; Emma trusted his judgment. The couple would be fine for a few more hours. Emma wandered the halls, thinking. Despite her troubled thoughts, she’d done enough surveillance herself to know when someone was following her.

“Who’s there?” No one answered. Emma took a few more steps as did her pursuer. “I know you’re there,” she said evenly. “Show yourself!”

A haggard looking Duchess of Kent stepped out of the shadows. “Where are you going?”

“You’re the one following me, Duchess. Where are you going?”

The Duchess moved closer, venom in her eyes. “What have you done to my daughter? She was willful and stubborn before, but you’ve filled her head with nonsense! She teeters on her throne and it is all _your_ fault!”

“If you’d seen the people yesterday, you would know that’s not true. They love her. They want her to be happy.” Emma wasn’t about to let this woman bait her.

“Happiness has nothing to do with it! Was I happy when her father dragged me to this barbaric island? No! But it was my duty!”

“So, you’d rather she be miserable with a man she doesn’t love?”

“Someone _shot_ at her! They want her dead! She _must_ marry Albert! It is the only way to save herself!” The Duchess was nearly hysterical, tears streaming down her cheeks. The handkerchief she carried was impossibly twisted around her fingers; the fabric looked like it would tear any moment.

“Newsflash: as long as she is Queen, she will _never_ be safe! Life doesn’t work that way! You can’t lock her way in this palace like some kind of doll! She is a person, and she has the right to live her life the way she wants! With whoever she wants!” Emma took a deep breath. “Look, you’re her mother. I’m sure you want what’s best for her. But Victoria is not a child. She is a grown woman, capable of making her own choice. She loves Lord Melbourne. If you can’t find a way to accept that, then you will lose her. I promise you that.”

How many times had Emma looked at her own mother and wonder? When Neal first returned, Mary Margaret couldn’t imagine why Emma wouldn’t want to take him back. They had a child together. Emma didn’t want to explain, because she didn’t want to disappoint her parents with the person she’d been. Emma wasn’t proud of the choices she’d made back then. Sure, she had Henry, but she’d lost so much time with him. It was all too painful; Neal had broken her trust. He couldn’t get it back. She would always care about him, but she didn’t love him. She had no idea how to make her mother see that. The hopeful look in Mary Margaret’s eyes whenever she talked about Neal back in Neverland was too much for Emma to take.

Emma was too stubborn at the time to realize that someone else was already worming their way into her heart.

“I will not be spoken to in this manner!” the Duchess cried shrilly. Before Emma could say anything else, the older woman spun on her heel and stalked off.

Emma sighed. She couldn’t make the Duchess understand. Love didn’t always make sense. It wasn’t rational. It simply was. Victoria loved William. He loved her. They’d fought it, struggled against it, but it was too much for them. Emma knew what that felt like. She’d tried so hard not to fall in love with Killian, but she’d failed. She couldn’t have been happier about that. The future was wide open; they could fill it however they chose.

Emma smiled to herself. She really hoped (and she had no reason to think that he wouldn’t) that Henry would like a little brother or sister. It was the one dream she’d never allowed herself, even when she could admit to herself that she loved Killian. Now, it was one step closer to reality.

Well, once they returned home. As much as Emma liked the Queen, she desperately wanted to return home. The fastest way to accomplish that was to untangle the quagmire they found themselves in. One that she may or may not have made worse. It was impossible to know until she spoke to Victoria. But what would she say? _I’m not really a princess, I’m some magical savior. Sorry about all the life saving?_

The truth was they’d been lying since the moment they arrived. Out of necessity, sure. But did that make it right? If their actions—hell, their very presence here—altered history, didn’t Victoria deserve to know the truth? _She won’t believe it,_ her mind argued.

But did it matter? There was a time Emma didn’t believe, but that didn’t make her reality less real. Victoria deserved the truth, even if no one else did. There was someone around the Queen who was trying to harm her, or at the very least, frighten her. No, she and Killian couldn’t leave until they got to the bottom of this mystery. Even if that meant losing her friendship with the Queen.

 

* * *

 

Where was his wife? Killian was keenly disappointed (and a little concerned) when he woke to find her missing from their bed. Judging from the cool sheets beside him, she’d been gone for some time. The previous day had been unexpectedly trying; while the immediate danger was past, he knew Emma too well. She wouldn’t rest until they got to the bottom of what happened. Not to mention asking her to use her magic on his friend was dangerous, especially since they had no way home as of yet. Had he made the right choice? Or had he been careless with his True Love’s safety? While he knew better than anyone that Emma could take care of herself, Killian still felt it was his duty to protect her where he could. She had too much to live for now.

A quick search of their suite confirmed what he already suspected. She was gone. Where could she have gone? There was only one way to find out.

Killian got up and dressed as quickly as he could. At the last moment, he remembered to put on his false hand, rather than his hook. He disliked the damned thing; it was heavy and awkward. It threw him off balance. Moreover, he was just used to the hook. When he first admitted his feelings for Emma, he believed his missing appendage to be a detriment; she deserved someone whole. But she proved him wrong, over and over. Her acceptance of him as he was helped him begin to accept himself. The darkness still clung to the edges of his heart, but it no longer ruled him. He’d discovered light and hope again; he would spend the rest of his days showing his gratitude.

It was early, very early. The palace was only just starting to buzz with activity, servants hustling through the corridors. Killian stopped more than one, inquiring after his wife. No one seemed to know where she was. Could she have gone to check on Victoria and Melbourne? Starting that way, Killian turned a corner, his thoughts consumed with concern for his wife. And walked directly into someone equally as distracted as himself.

“Apologies,” he said quickly, reaching out to steady his unintended victim. Small arms clung to a pile of sheets, the pile almost as large as she was.

“It’s alright,” a familiar voice said, sounding slightly muffled.

“Miss Skerrett?”

“Yes, Captain. My apologies. I can’t really see where I’m going with these.”

Killian helped her maneuver the sheets into a more comfortable position. “I wasn’t watching where I was going, Miss Skerrett. Don’t trouble yourself.” He recalled that this was Victoria’s dresser, one of her most trusted servants. “How is the Queen?”

Miss Skerrett looked around quickly. “Still in Lord Melbourne’s chamber. I took the liberty of mussing her bed, hoping to stop idle talk.” The young woman nodded pointedly at the sheets she held.

Killian nodded in understanding. “Has it worked?”

She shrugged. “I do not know. Do you think Lord Melbourne will be alright?”

“Aye, I do. He’ll be up and about in no time.”

Skerrett breathed a sigh of relief. “I am pleased to hear that. Her Majesty…cares for him very much.”

“I think they will be very happy together. I’m sure she’ll be grateful for all you’ve done for her.”

“It is my honor to serve her.”

Killian tilted his head. “You are very fond of her.”

Skerrett blushed. “She accepted me for who I am, even when she didn’t have to. I owe her a great deal. But yes, I would do what I could to see her happy.”

Killian smiled. “Then she is lucky to have a friend as loyal as you. Now, can I help you with these? I was looking for my wife, but these look like more than one person can handle.”

Skerrett shook her head. “I can manage, but thank you, Captain. I thought I saw the princess heading for the gardens. You might want to try there.”

“I will, thank you.” Killian watched the young woman leave, touched by the care she had for her Queen. Victoria needed all the friends she could get. Once Skerrett turned the corner, he hurried off in the direction of the gardens.

 

* * *

 

“Emma?”

Emma turned, surprised to hear her husband’s voice. “Over here, Killian.”

He rounded the corner, looking both relieved and slightly anxious. “Not exactly where I expected you to be, love.”

Emma half shrugged. “Sorry. I couldn’t sleep and I didn’t want to wake you.”

He moved up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “What’s troubling you?”

“I can’t help but wonder if I made the right choice.”

“If _we_ made the right choice, lass,” he corrected. “We’re in this together.”

“But it’s my magic.”

“True, but you only considered using it as a last resort. And I asked you to. We don’t know yet what the consequences will be.”

“That’s what worries me. The last thing we need is the word ‘witch’ to start getting thrown around.” Magic wasn’t supposed to be real in this world, but it was. It wasn’t supposed to be real in her world either, but they found pockets—even outside of Storybrooke—where the rules didn’t apply. Was this one such place? Or was it because Henry created this world with his burgeoning Author powers?

“It won’t come to that.”

“How do you know?”

“Because magic or no, Victoria will simply be happy to have the man she loves alive and well.”

“We have to tell them the truth.”

“They won’t believe us.”

“It doesn’t matter. I hate lying. She’s my friend, Killian.”

“But if what you fear comes to pass, she might not want to be your friend.”

The look of resignation on her face broke his heart. She did not need him to tell her these things; she’d likely been turning it over and over in her mind all night long. “It’s a risk I have to take. They’re going to want answers, Killian. You know that. Bullet wounds don’t just heal themselves. I owe her the truth.”

“Very well then.” He slowly turned her in his arms and placed a gentle kiss to her lips. “I will be right by your side.”

Emma wrapped her arms around his neck, taking strength from his sturdy embrace. She loved him so much. “Thank you.”

“It is always my pleasure, love.” He stepped back and offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

 

* * *

 

Victoria peeled back the top of William’s nightshirt again, mystified by what she found. There was nothing. The skin was whole and perfect, not a mark to be had. It was most mysterious. She’d had her lover’s blood on her hands! She would never be able to banish that image from her mind. The fear that she might lose him had caught in her throat, nearly making her choke.

There had to be an explanation; she simply could not fathom what it might be.

William took her hand between his larger ones. “Victoria, staring at it will not bring you the answers you seek.”

“Do you not think it strange?”

“Of course, I do, but I also realize that I’ve been given a second chance.” He smiled ruefully. “Perhaps more like a fourth or fifth chance, but another chance all the same.” He threaded their fingers together. “I want to spend the rest of my days loving you the way you deserve.”

Victoria drew their joined hands to her lips, brushing them over the back of his hand. “I want that too, Lord M. More than anything. Yet it pains me to know how close I came to losing you.”

William used his free hand to cup her cheek. “I came just as close to losing you, Victoria. This is now the second time someone has attacked you. We must get to the bottom of it, as quickly as possible.” It frightened him more than he cared to admit. While his miraculous recovery was a puzzle, it was the least of his concerns. Now that he was out of danger, it was his duty to make sure she was safe. What sort of husband would he be otherwise?

Victoria looked away. “I had not considered that. I do not understand how there could be people out there who wish me ill.”

“I doubt it is you personally,” he said, trying to believe it himself. “It’s more about what you represent.”

“What are you saying? Could the Chartists be behind it?”

“I am unsure, Ma’am. Perhaps we should inquire of Sir Robert; see if his police have discovered anything.”

Victoria allowed him to draw her close to his chest; she could feel his heartbeat under her palm. She was so thankful that he seemed to be perfectly alright, but something nagged at her. She was missing something. But she couldn’t imagine what it could be.

A soft knock roused them from the quiet. “Victoria? William? It’s us, Emma and Killian.”

Victoria let out a breath. It was only their friends. But how would she explain William’s recovery? It was too late to worry about it now. “Come in!”

The door opened just enough for the couple to slip through. “Apologies for the intrusion. We just wanted to see how you were.”

Victoria blushed, suddenly aware that both she and Lord M were in their nightclothes. But their friends didn’t seem to mind. She had to admit it was nice to see a friendly face.

William felt her tense; he stroked the inside of her wrist to calm her. “We are quite well, which seems to be something of a miracle.”

“A miracle?”

“I don’t recall all that happened yesterday, but Victoria assures me that I lost quite a lot of blood. But today there’s nothing. No mark of any kind. It is most unusual.”

Emma shifted uncomfortably. Now that the moment of truth was here, she was nervous. How would they react? “I can explain.”

Victoria blinked at her friend. Emma could explain? How? She greatly disliked not understanding things. It always reminded her of Sir John and the horrible way he looked down on her back at Kensington. He deliberately kept her ignorant, something she was still fighting to overcome.

“Perhaps we should move this to the sitting room?” Killian suggested.

“I agree,” William said, nodding. He let go of Victoria long enough to pull on some trousers and a loose shirt; he didn’t think this was a conversation to be had quite so casually. Victoria curled into his side the moment he joined her on the small couch, her eyes wide with curiosity.

Emma didn’t miss the way the petite queen’s fingers brushed over the patch of skin where her beloved was wounded. “It’s kind of a long story actually. But I hope when we’re finished you believe that we’re your friends. I didn’t expect that when we arrived here, but I do cherish our friendship.”

“Why wouldn’t we believe that?” Victoria asked.

“Because we haven’t been entirely truthful. In fact, Leopold wasn’t entirely wrong about us.”

Victoria’s frown deepened. “Explain.”

With an encouraging nod from Killian, Emma launched into the story. The real story. Magic and fairy tales, pirates and saviors, portals and time travel, happy endings and possible alternate realities. Killian stepped in a few times when Emma couldn’t find the right words, her hand firmly in his. Victoria’s face was hard to read; Emma couldn’t blame her if she were angry. Emma couldn’t say she wouldn’t be, if the situation were reversed.

When she finished, the silence was deafening. Emma glanced from Victoria to William. “I wouldn’t blame you in the slightest for being upset. I am deeply sorry that we misled you. Coming to this place was an accident. We never meant for any of this to happen. But I just…can’t stand by and do nothing when bad things happen. I never could, even when I knew I should. It’s not who I am.”

Killian looking lovingly down at his wife. Her innate goodness was probably the thing he loved most about her. She could have traveled a very different path, but she was too strong for that.

Victoria didn’t know what to believe. It all sounded so impossible! Magic spells? The future? Some sort of time travel? It was all nonsense. Yet it explained certain things that puzzled her. The way Emma spoke, for example. Her lack of knowledge regarding royal protocol, for another. Victoria had simply assumed it was Emma’s evident dislike of formality, but it was more than that. This woman had not grown up the same way Victoria had, that much was clear now.

She was surprised how much it hurt. Victoria believed she’d found a genuine friend, someone who understood her life. But it was all a lie.

“Was any of it true?”

The hurt in the other woman’s voice cut Emma deeply. “My mother was a princess in another land. When she met my father, she’d been a bandit for a while. It’s complicated.”

“Emma may not have grown up in a palace, Your Majesty, but she’s just as much royalty as you are,” Killian said firmly.

“Killian…”

“I know how much you dislike it, love, but it’s true. If not for the curse, you would be her, Queen of your realm. And a good one too.”

“If not for the curse, I wouldn’t have you,” Emma countered. “Or Henry. No, thank you.” As the words came out of her mouth, she realized they were true. There was a lot about her life that she wished was different. But everything led her here. How could she wish for anything else?

“Now, love, do you really think that I would fail to find you?” he replied with a grin.

Emma rolled her eyes. That wasn’t the point right now. “I know this is all very hard to believe, but I can prove it.” She raised her hand and waved it at a nearby vase. In a flash, it was filled with orchids.

Victoria’s eyes widened. She looked to Lord M, who appeared just as dumbfounded as she. The ramifications of all this was almost too overwhelming. She grasped for something, anything to make sense of what she was seeing. “That day in the park,” she settled on at last. “How did you know? Was there really even an assassin?”

William blinked. He hadn’t thought of that. But if their story about the future was true, it made sense. He didn’t quite know what to make of magic and other lands, but he could see plainly how much revealing this pained Emma. Yet, he admired her courage.

Emma shared a glance with Killian. “Actually, Killian figured it out. He’s done a lot of reading about English history. You’re…kind of a big deal.”

“Big deal?”

“This whole bloody era is named after you, Your Majesty,” Killian interjected. “You’re one of the most famous monarchs to ever live.”

William couldn’t have stopped his smile even if he wanted to. He _knew_ she would be a great queen. He’d seen it in her eyes the moment they met. He was awed by her, his little queen.

“I fail to see how that’s relevant.”

“There are—were—assassination attempts,” Emma replied. “Nine of them. They all fail, but it’s well documented. I knew you were the key to us finding our way home, so we used our knowledge to our advantage.”

“By saving her life?” Melbourne asked.

It was impossible for her to read his tone. He didn’t sound angry or even upset. He was deceptively calm about all of this. It was a little unnerving. “Yes. Yet by doing that, we may have set off an entirely different chain of events.”

“How so?” Victoria asked.

Emma looked down at her hands, debating with herself. How much should they reveal? She was torn between telling the truth and protecting her friend. Too much knowledge of the future could be even worse than none.

Victoria stood, her temper getting the better of her. “I demand you tell me. What do you know?”

Emma sighed. “Where we come from, you marry Albert. None of this,” she gestured between Victoria and Melbourne, “ever happens. We’re in completely uncharted territory. I don’t know if it’s the magic in this place or if we’re really changing the future. I am so sorry.”

Victoria balked. Marry Albert? There was a world where she didn’t get to spend her life with Lord M? Preposterous! She would not have it! “Get out,” she said, her voice quivering with anger. “Get out!”

“Victoria…”

“I said, get out. Now.”

Killian grabbed her elbow and gently raised Emma to her feet. As they departed, he shared a look with Melbourne, a look Victoria didn’t see. He understood the Queen’s hurt and anger; Killian hoped that Melbourne would help her to see that they meant no harm. Until then, Killian intended to find out exactly who wanted to harm the Queen of England.

 

* * *

 

The moment the door clicked shut, an enraged scream tore from Victoria’s throat. “They must think me a simpleton, like Mama and Uncle Leopold!” she cried, pacing back and forth. “Magic?! Portals? It’s all ridiculous!”

William stood, gathering her hands in his. “You saw it with your own eyes, Ma’am. As did I.”

“A parlor trick! Sleight of hand! Call it what you will. It’s not real, Lord M.”

He yanked on the collar of his shirt. “Then how do you explain this?” he shot back. “You said it yourself. You saw the blood. You held it inside me with your own hands, Victoria. Emma healed me with her power. She did something unselfish, for which I am very grateful.”

Victoria scoffed. “No, the doctor must have…”

“Must have what? Stitched me back together and not left a mark? Even if that were _possible,_ it doesn’t explain how I feel.”

That brought her up short. “How you feel? I don’t understand.”

“As much as you hate to admit it, there is a significant difference in our ages, Ma’am.” He saw her open her mouth to protest, so he ploughed on. “While I am grateful that you’ve never held it against me, it was always going to be an obstacle to us obtaining the future you want.” Her eyes welled with tears; he clasped her small hands in his larger ones. “I want that future too, Victoria, more than you know. I just never allowed myself to believe it was possible. Not until recently. I’ve cursed how selfish I am, knowing I could leave you a young widow.”

“Is that why you made me promise that I would be happy?”

He nodded. “To assuage my own conscience. I hated myself for the future I was taking from you.”

“But I love _you,_ William. I want to be with you!”

He brought her hands to his lips and kissed the back of it. “You’ve made that quite clear. But it doesn’t change reality. At least it didn’t. Now, I wonder if things are different.”

“How?”

Willian shrugged. “It’s difficult to explain. But I feel…changed. Invigorated, somehow. Aches that used to bother me are gone.” He smiled down at her. “Although lately, someone has been making me feel quite young.” Victoria blushed, but she didn’t look away. She knew exactly of what he spoke. “I still worry that you will come to your senses, but for the first time, I have hope that I can be by your side for a long time to come.”

“I do hope you were jesting, Lord M. I am quite serious in my choices.” She lifted her chin, even though she could see the merry twinkle in his eyes. He was teasing her! And yet, looking at him—really looking—she could see a little of what he meant. He was just as handsome as ever, but there was something else. She couldn’t define it, but she knew it was there.

William touched the ring on her finger. “I assure you, Ma’am, I am quite serious too.” This was the life he wanted; he wanted _her._ Before he could talk himself out it, he bent and kissed her. Softly at first, relearning the taste of her. Victoria shivered, her fingers curling into his loose shirt. A surge of heat washed through her as he pulled her closer, her curves smashed against the hard planes of his chest. His tongue swiped along her bottom lip; Victoria opened instinctively.

William gripped her slim waist, his hands sliding over the thin fabric of her nightgown. She was warm under his touch, all soft curves and willing. His fingers sunk into the globes of her arse; Victoria moaned. All his blood rushed south; she made such delightful sounds! Awkwardly, he led them back to the couch, barely taking his lips from hers as he settled her in his lap. Victoria straddled his legs, her nightgown bunched around her thighs.

Victoria’s anger melted under her lover’s sensual touch; William always knew how to arouse her. Her eyes fell closed as he kissed his way down her throat and across her collarbone. The cool air of the room touched her overheated skin as he loosened the neck of her nightgown, easing it off her shoulders. She was bare beneath it and no longer shy about it. The hunger she saw in his eyes spoke to something deep within her; she longed for him. “William…”

His hands moved of their own accord, sliding up under her gown. “We mustn’t,” he protested weakly, despite every instinct telling him to make her his own. “Not yet.”

She let out a strangled cry of frustration. “I can feel how much you want me,” she whispered, rocking over his clothed erection. He felt so delicious between her legs; she wanted to take the next step.

“Which is exactly why we shouldn’t.”

“Do husbands not traditionally desire their wives?”

“This soon to be husband very much desires his bride,” he growled, wrapping his lips around one of her pert nipples and sucking hard. She keened, her fingers digging painfully into his hair. He groaned, rocking against her swirling hips. “But not like this.”

“Like what? I want you, William. Please.”

It took all his self-control, but he shook his head. “You want a distraction from the news you’ve just received. I won’t take advantage of that.”

Victoria wanted to shriek in frustration. Why did he have to be so noble when she merely wanted to forget everything that had happened? “I’ve wanted you longer than I can remember,” she confided. “Before I even knew what it was that I needed. Please, William. Please.” She drew his mouth back to her flesh, needing more of the sensations be drew from her. Obediently, he took her neglected nipple into his mouth and teased her with lips and tongue and teeth. Fresh jolts of need went through her; her arousal soaked his trousers.

“Bloody hell,” he swore softly. Against his better judgement, he lifted the nightgown over her head, revealing her lithe form. “So much I want to do to you, Victoria.”

She leaned in and kissed him deeply. The lust that burned in his eyes only made her wetter. “Touch me, William. God.”

Before she breath, William hoisted her into his arms and marched them back to his bedroom. Victoria giggled happily as he deposited her on the bed, crawling in after her. She bit her lip as he removed his shirt, but stubbornly kept his trousers on. Parting her thighs, he moved closer, his mouth hovering over her ear. “If we do this,” he whispered. “There’s no going back. Tell me you understand.”

The command in his tone made her shiver. He was so close to giving her what she needed so badly; she would do anything. “I understand,” she said clearly. “I need you, William.”

William nipped at her breast. “Out there, you belong to all. But here…you’re mine. All mine.”

“Yes, yes!” she agreed quickly.

“There is no one here but us.”

She nodded. In that moment, she could not imagine anything more perfect. To think she’d nearly lost him! Whoever tried to take him from her would pay. And yet…he’d been saved. So unselfishly. Tears threatened; Victoria drew her lover in for a passionate kiss so he wouldn’t notice. The truth might be impossible, revealing it might hurt, but it brought them to this moment. Victoria was so thankful to Emma for all she had done. Later, she’d find a way to apologize for her outburst. Emma truly was her friend; she saw that now. They were two women who loved impossibly, beyond reason. They were the same.

William felt her tremble beneath him; he knew in that moment that everything would work out. Somehow, some way, they would have everything they wanted. He felt her forgiveness, her innate goodness winning over momentary hurt. And he fell even more in love with her.

Victoria moaned softly as he nibbled along her collar, one hand massaging her breast. She arched into his touch, intoxicated with the feel of him above her. His weight pressed her into the mattress; the material of his trousers felt amazing against her aching flesh. She ground against him shamelessly, craving more.

“No need to rush, darling girl,” he chided gently. “I intend to get my fill of you.”

She nodded weakly, a slave to the desire that burned within her. William had awoken it, given it life; she could only ever be his.

Slowly, William kissed his way down her body, lavishing each nipple with attention. Victoria made the most delectable sounds, soft sighs and low cries, as she writhed under him. He loathed hurting her, so he took his time, winding her tighter and tighter, his fingers dipping down to massage her swollen bud. Victoria jumped at his touch, her first orgasm ripping through her. Her tiny hands fisted the sheets, her back bowed off the bed as she climaxed. Her cry of pleasure, so familiar now, made his chest swell with pride. He did this to her. He discovered the passionate woman inside the monarch.

Victoria shivered as she felt the bed dip around her. Where was William? Where was he going? She forced her eyes open, even as she struggled to catch her breath. William was nearby, sliding his trousers over his hips. Victoria was stunned to realize he wore no undergarments; his cock bobbed proudly against his stomach. She swallowed heavily; butterflies settled in her belly. How could she have forgotten how…large he was? She wanted him desperately, but she would be lying if she said that some part of her was a little apprehensive.

William felt her eyes on him. “Come.”

Victoria moved closer, humming softly as he drew her into a kiss. “You can still change your mind.”

Gathering her courage, Victoria shook her head. “I want to be yours, William.”

William rolled, drawing her against him. He kissed her slowly, reverently, fully conscious of the gift she was giving him. Her hands wandered his chest, his hips; he hissed in pleasure as she curled her fingers around his aching erection. Just as he’d shown her, she stroked him, his hips rocking into her touch. For his part, he couldn’t stop touching her; she was soft and firm in all the right places. He needed her as aroused as possible; the last thing he wanted was to hurt her unnecessarily. It had been some time since he’d done this, but her comfort was paramount. She would only get one first time.

“Oh,” Victoria breathed. Warm fingers slid over her slick flesh, pressing against her entrance. She parted her thighs easily, welcoming him. She was no longer shy about her desires; she craved William’s touch. It was heady, so much better than any wine or spirits. Her nails dug into his shoulder as he eased two fingers into her tight channel.

“Does this hurt?”

She shook her head. “No, it just…don’t stop. Please!”

William grinned wolfishly, planting a kiss to her belly. She was wet and snug around his fingers; he slowly added a third, as his tongue teased her nub once more. Victoria bucked against his fingers, forcing him deeper inside her. He could only imagine how incredible she would feel wrapped around him. He’d dreamed of her so many times; he could hardly believe they were here in this moment. Perhaps he’d just dreamed the gunshot and the magic; this had to be heaven. He didn’t deserve it, but he was going to take it all the same.

Victoria fisted William’s dark hair, holding him to her as she tried to grind against him. She was so close; she needed him to give her the ultimate pleasure. “William…please!”

Her arousal soaked the sheet; she was ready. “Tell me what you want, Victoria.”

“I want…I want…” As badly as she needed to climax, there was one need that surpassed all others. “I need you inside me, William.”

They’d spoken several times in hushed tones about her cycle and the methods they would use to keep her from conceiving for as long as possible. Given the timing, there was only one way this would end. If he kept his wits about him, of course. He could not fail her, not when she was placing her heart and her trust in him.

He gathered her in his arms and rolled them, so he lay on his back. Victoria straddled his hips, a nervous smile on her face. Willian drew her close, kissing her thoroughly. “Do you remember what I showed you?” She nodded, giving him a saucy grin as she rolled her hips. “Naughty girl.”

“If I am, you made me that way, Lord M.”

“Guilty, Ma’am.” He kissed her again, using the distraction to line himself up. He felt her stiffen briefly, then together they eased her onto him. Victoria gasped at the initial penetration, surprised at how much he stretched her. Inch by inch she moved down, her eyes closed, memorizing the sensation. After a couple of breaths, she felt some resistance. William massaged her clit, relaxing her. There was pinch, but that was all. It faded quickly, replaced by the delicious feeling of being filled. She moaned, forehead resting on his chest. It was even better than she’d imagined; she never wanted him to leave her.

“Victoria?” She was killing him, her virgin channel accepting him, pulsing around his shaft. “Fuck.”

Her eyes fluttered open. “I didn’t know…”

“I’m sorry it hurts.”

“No! I feel…wonderful.”

“Bloody hell.” He kissed her forehead, encouraging her to move. She was hesitant at first, shallow jerks of her hips, until she discovered the sheer joy of their flesh rubbing together. The friction was exactly what she’d been craving, the glide of his erection against her tight walls setting her body alight. A few times she got a little over excited and slid off him completely; she always felt empty then. William was so patient, reveling in her pleasure and slowly showing her what he liked.

It was the most glorious dream he’d ever had. The Queen of England was astride him, greedily riding his cock into oblivion. She was gorgeous, skin flushed, nipples peaked, lips parted, head thrown back. Her long hair tickled the tops of his thighs; William thrust up into her as she slid down, over and over until her walls began to quiver with impending orgasm.

William flipped them over once more, swallowing her cry of protest as he slipped out of her again. He thrust home hard, stealing her breath, pumping into her with abandon. He felt her climax just before she screamed, her nails creating painful halfmoons on his skin. He pulled out of her with a grunt, using one hand to finish himself off all over her breasts and belly.

Victoria gradually came back to herself, relishing the last remnants of her high. She’d long imagined how she would feel after; nothing could have prepared her for this. She felt changed, like she’d only been half aware of the world around her, but now, she could feel everything. When she opened her eyes, her beloved William was looking down at her with a slight furrow between his brows. “Hello, Ma’am.”

“Hello.” Heat crept up her cheeks; why should she feel embarrassed?

William stroked her cheek with his fingers. “How do you feel?”

“Why do you look so grim, Lord M? I am perfectly well.” There was an ache between her thighs, but it only served as a reminder that she was well and truly his at last.

He relaxed a little. “I am pleased to hear it.”

A doubt flittered across her mind. “Do you regret it?”

He looked slightly ashamed but shook his head. “No. I should, but it was everything I thought it would be. You are everything.”

“Why should you?”

“We are not yet married, my love.”

“This just proves we need to get married sooner then.” She smiled, cupping his cheek and drawing him in for a chaste kiss. “I love you, William.”

“And I you, Victoria.” Then it was his turn to flush. “We should get you clean.”

“What? Oh.” She looked down; the evidence of his desire was drying on her skin. William went to fetch a cloth while Victoria took stock. Yes, the ache between her legs was still there, but otherwise she appeared perfectly fine. It wasn’t until she sat up that she saw the drops of blood. “Oh dear.”

“What?” Then William followed her gaze. “Yes, unavoidable, I’m afraid. Are you sure I didn’t hurt you?”

Victoria shook her head. “No, I’m quite alright.” She took the cloth from him and cleansed her skin. “But what do we do about the sheets?” Belatedly, she remembered why William had been so cautious. If the world knew he’d deflowered her prior to their wedding, it could put the succession into question.

He saw the panic rising in her eyes. “Let me deal with them, Ma’am.” He picked her up and placed her in his favorite chair. “As much as I would love to stay here with you, the world is waiting.”

Victoria took his hand. She hated it, but she knew he was right. If they lingered here much longer, people would talk. “I must apologize to Emma. My behavior was uncalled for.”

“You wouldn’t be human if such a discovery did not upset you,” William said gently. “I’m sure Emma would tell you the same.”

“I thought I’d found someone like me,” she said softly.

“But you did. You may not have had the same upbringing, but in every way that matters, you are great friends. I would hate to see you throw that away.”

“You understand, don’t you?”

William nodded. “How long did I lie to you about how I felt? How long did I lie to _myself_? I allowed you to leave Brocket Hall believing that I did not care for you in that way. It was nearly the greatest mistake of my life. I thought I was protecting you. I’m sure Emma and Killian believed the same.”

“I do not need protecting!”

William kissed her hand. “Anyone who knows you well understands this, my love. But you—simply by being who you are in here,” he tapped her chest, “win people’s love and loyalty. We would not see you hurt, not if we can prevent it. Emma chose to save me, which placed herself at risk. I can not help but respect that.”

Victoria nodded. He was right, of course. She’d already forgiven her friend. She understood now why Emma did what she did. She was so grateful for her help in healing William! Her friends had come here by accident; they—quite understandably—wanted to return to their home. What kind of person would she be if she turned her back on them? To be the kind of Queen she wanted to be, she must first be the best person she could be.

“Will you send for Skerrett? I need to dress and find Emma.”

“Gladly.”

 

* * *

 

Emma pinched the bridge of her nose; she could feel a headache coming on. After leaving Melbourne’s chamber, she and Killian started their investigation. Killian went below stairs to interview some of the staff, see if any of them had heard any rumors about the Queen’s shooter. Emma spent her time questioning the Queen’s ladies and her closest male courtiers. Lord Alfred was beside himself; Emma could see that he felt responsible. Once she assured him that Lord Melbourne would live, he became an ally, escorting her down to the small barracks near the palace. They spent over two hours questioning the soldiers who’d been part of the Queen’s escort, trying to get an idea of exactly what happened.

Now, she was ensconced in the library, a diagram of the scene sketched out. Lord Alfred sent a squad to aid in the search; it was worrying that the shooter hadn’t been caught yet.

What was she missing? Something didn’t add up; she could feel it in her gut.

She struggled to remember. Everything seemed fine. The people appeared pleased to see their monarch; many shouted words of encouragement and greeting. Victoria soaked in the attention; she obviously reciprocated their affection. There had been an obstruction in the road; they’d been forced to pause while it was cleared. Why didn’t the shooter use that time to fire? They’d been motionless for a good three or four minutes, plenty of time to get a shot off, even with the era’s antiquated weapons. The question was why? Why wait to shoot? It was possible the shooter wasn’t in place yet, but moments passed between their resumption of motion and the shot.

 _There was more than one shot._ To the best of Emma’s knowledge, mid nineteenth century guns weren’t that sophisticated. To have numerous shots that close together…there had to be more than one shooter.

 _Oh god._ If that was true, then they were dealing with a conspiracy of some kind. Who had the resources to do something like that? Who had that big of a grudge against Victoria?

Emma looked down at the sketch again, examining the angles they’d deduced each shot had come from. The one that stuck Melbourne…had it been meant for Victoria? Emma followed it with her finger. It struck Melbourne from the front. So, unless the shooter meant to strike the Queen of England from behind, Melbourne was the target.

There _was_ someone who wished the Queen’s fiancé ill. Several someones. Emma dismissed Albert almost immediately. He was certainly upset about being rejected, but Emma had never thought him vengeful. She was sure Melbourne had some enemies from his days as Prime Minister. There had been some outright objections from the Privy Council based on it. But a politician stooping so low? Emma didn’t think it likely. That left only one suspect.

Leopold.

His life’s work in shambles, his nephew flat out rejected by the Queen of England, his international reputation dragged through the mud both in Parliament and the nation’s press…he certainly had motive. Being the monarch of a country like Belgium, he had the resources. But why risk what little familial feeling Victoria had for him? Why put his own sister through such a thing? The Duchess of Kent might not win Mother of the Year any time soon, but Emma could see how much she loved her daughter. Mistakes or not, the woman had been hysterical when they arrived back at the palace. What if the shoot had missed and hit the Queen instead?

Who would inherit the throne if Victoria died childless? Emma didn’t know; she wished Killian were there. She thought Victoria had mentioned it once, but she couldn’t remember now.

“Why didn’t you pay more attention in school, Swan?” she mumbled out loud.

A soft knock nearly made her jump out of her skin. Emma’s head snapped around to see the Queen of England slipping quietly into the room. “Victoria! You scared me!”

Victoria rubbed her hands together nervously. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Emma stood. “No, it’s okay. I suppose I deserve a lot worse.” The Queen seemed a bit apprehensive, a far cry from the furious woman who’d ordered them out of her sight a few hours ago. Killian thought she’d come around; Emma was skeptical.

Victoria frowned, then shook her head. “Please accept my apology for my earlier behavior,” she said softly. “I can only imagine how frightening all of this must have been for you, coming to a world that is not your own.”

“Believe it or not, this is the second time I’ve fallen into a wacky magic portal. Killian followed me then too.”

“He loves you very much.”

“Yeah, he does. Still, I don’t blame you for being upset. We lied, which is never right. We just thought the truth would be too bizarre.” Emma smiled ruefully. “I was starting to kinda like the princess thing.”

“Deep down, I think I knew there was something…different about you. But it wasn’t enough for me not to want you as a friend.” Victoria stepped closer. “I’d very much still like us to be friends, if that’s agreeable?”

Emma nodded. “I’d like that.”

Victoria sighed in relief and hurried to close the gap between them. She hugged her friend, thankful that Emma could forgive her. Victoria understood now why Emma and Killian had done what they did. As Emma said, it wasn’t right, but people made mistakes. Victoria probably wouldn’t have accepted the truth prior to Lord M’s injury. If not for Emma’s intervention, she might have lost William forever.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely. “For saving him.”

“You’re welcome.”

Victoria smiled shyly. “Your secret is safe with me,” she replied. “This can remain between us.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Lord M thinks it prudent that he remain in his rooms for a few days, to keep up the pretense. Only Skerrett knows the truth of where I will be staying at night.”

“That’s good. She’s trustworthy.” Emma had seen that herself.

Victoria glanced over her shoulder, as if to make sure they were alone. Now that the apologies were out of the way, the younger woman’s demeanor had changed slightly. A smile played along her lips, her eyes sparkled. “What is it?”

Victoria’s grin was contagious. “I simply must tell someone! The most wonderful thing has happened!”

Emma studied the Queen of England critically. Nothing obvious stood out to her, aside from the way she glowed. And suddenly, Emma _knew._ She knew that look, all too well. “Did you and Melbourne….?”

Victoria nodded, blushing furiously. “Do you think me wicked?”

Emma shook her head. “No, I think you deserve to be with the man you love.”

“Lord M truly wished to wait for our wedding night, but after what happened…”

Emma covered Victoria’s hand with hers. “Hey, I get it. Believe me, I definitely get it.” That was a story for another day. “Does this mean you’re moving up the wedding?”

“I want to, but William doubts it will be possible. There are many things that need to be decided for a state wedding, things I didn’t even know about. The last time I spoke with the Lord Chamberlain, he said spring! Spring! It is November! That is entirely too long!”

Emma knew they should get to the bottom of who took a shot at the Queen and/or her fiancé, but Emma couldn’t bring herself to burden Victoria with her suspicions just now. Not when she seemed so happy. Victoria deserved a happiness. “Do you have to have a state wedding? Couldn’t it be something…smaller?”

They moved to the window seat, the weather reflected Emma’s conflicted emotions. It wasn’t rainy, but the sun had disappeared behind thick white clouds. Victoria folded a pillow in her arms. “A reigning English monarch hasn’t married in some time. Lord M says the spectacle will please the people.”

“And what about you? What do you want?”

“I could get married in a quiet parish church and be the happiest woman in the world.”

“Then you should.”

“I don’t know…”

Emma gestured outside. “Look, I get it. Your people’s opinion of you means a lot. You want their love. That’s not a bad thing. But it shouldn’t come at the expense of your happiness. This isn’t about what someone prints about you in the paper or christening a ship or unveiling a statue. You can give them what they want and get what you want.”

“How?”

Emma leaned closer. “Not many people know this, but my parents had two weddings.”

“Two weddings?”

“It’s a bit of a long story, but the short version is…my grandmother, Dad’s mom, was dying. She wanted to see her son married before she passed. It was her only wish. So, a friend of theirs conducted the ceremony right then and there. Only later did they have the formal wedding.”

Oh, what a sad yet beautiful story! Victoria looked outside, contemplating her capital. What did she want? She wanted to be married to William as soon as possible. They could not keep of the charade of being merely engaged for long. Even before the shooting, William slept in her chamber most nights. She could hardly be without him. Now that they’d crossed that final threshold? No, she needed her marriage to happen sooner rather than later.

It would take some work, but it might be possible. “Would you help me?”

“Of course.” Emma sighed. “I really hate to out a damper on things, but there is one thing that might be more important.”

Victoria nodded. “Yes, I suppose so. William wants to speak to Sir Robert, see how the investigation is proceeding. Has anyone been arrested?”

Emma shook her head. “No and that’s what I’m worried about. Whoever did this might try again.”

“I can’t leave London,” Victoria said firmly. “I will not be called a coward.”

“No one’s asking you to leave,” Emma replied, ignoring the fact that Lord Alfred suggested that very thing. She knew Victoria would never go for it. Emma didn’t think it was necessary anyway. They were safe enough in the palace. “Killian and I have been doing a little investigating of our own.”

“Oh, Emma, I couldn’t ask you to…”

“Hey, back where we come from, it’s what we do. We help people. Trust me, Killian and I have solved plenty of mysteries together.”

“I envy your partnership.”

“You know, I think you and William will have the same partnership. You’ll see.”

“I just can’t fathom who would want to do this,” Victoria said sadly. “Who hates me this much?”

Emma sighed. “The thing is…I’m not sure you were the target.”


End file.
